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Updated: June 29, 2025
"Well, I wouldn't be Peggy Harrison," returned Betty, gayly, and she added in the same tone, "so Mr. Morson got your camellia, after all, didn't he?" "Oh, he begged so hard with his eyes," answered Virginia. "He had seen me give Dan a white rose on Christmas Eve, you know, and he said it wasn't fair to be so unfair." "You gave Dan a white rose?" repeated Betty, slowly.
Yes, dear Morson, for the nymphs' sake neither lean in thy judgment to Comatas, nor, prithee, favour HIM. The flock of sheep thou seest here belongs to Sibyrtas of Thurii, and the goats, friend, that thou beholdest are the goats of Eumarides of Sybaris. Lacon. Now, in the name of Zeus did any one ask thee, thou make- mischief, who owned the flock, I or Sibyrtas? What a chatterer thou art!
Now I believe Sary would make a big man of you, Jeb. "She may not dye her hair or paint her face, but she's got a square look, and we-all know what sound stock she comes of. There isn't a better family in all Colorado than the Morson's. And Sary Morson is all there! She has sterling qualities that will last after beauty and singing is worn thread-bare.
"If you shake your fist at me again, I'll pitch you head over heels into that snowdrift." "Pitch whom, sir?" roared Morson, riding at the wall, when Diggs caught his bridle and roughly dragged him back. "Come, now, don't make a beast of yourself," he implored. "Who's a beast?" was promptly put by Morson; but leaving it unanswered, Diggs wheeled his horse about and started up the turnpike.
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