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Updated: June 20, 2025
She has invited us to come to her to-morrow, and she wants all the friends who were kind to us, and who helped us in every way during our year in London, to come in the evening to hear what the plans are. Even if you can't see, Mrs. Mortlock, it will amuse you to come, and I hope so much you will do so. I will try to stay close to you myself when you do come, so you need not feel lonely."
They are all quite fresh from the country. Oh yes, of course we may share them. Mrs. Flint, which will you have, some flowers, a bunch of grapes, or a peach?" Mrs. Flint selected a good-sized bunch of grapes with a placid smile, and a "Thank you, Miss Jasmine" Mrs. Mortlock also took grapes, Miss Slowcum selected flowers, and Mrs.
This she was eating with appetite and relish, while Miss Slowcum languidly tapped her egg, and remarked as she did so that it was hollow, but not more so than life. Mrs. Mortlock, since the commencement of her affliction, always sat by Mrs. Flint's side, and when she imagined that her companions were making use of their sight to some purpose she invariably requested Mrs.
"Oh, ladies, you'll pardon me, but this is no time for standing on ceremony, when my own darling little lady, Miss Daisy Mainwaring, has gone and left her sheltering home." "Good gracious! my continual reader's little sister!" exclaimed Mrs. Mortlock. "Left her home! you must be mistaken, Sarah Jane."
Primrose, however, always managed to soothe the somewhat irascible old lady, and was already a prime favorite with her. To-day she took up the newspaper with a heavy heart, and the anxiety which oppressed her made itself felt in a certain weary tone which came into her voice. Mrs. Mortlock was fond of Primrose, but was never slow in expressing an opinion.
She would not be that, even though it was her bent, and now she's got to accept something far worse; for it really must be dreadful to be 'continual reader' to poor old Mrs. Mortlock. Now, Daisy, what I say is this there's no use in wasting time or money looking after things which don't suit us.
Mortlock was about the last occupation she would have chosen, but the thought of the purse at home which was getting so sadly light, and the feeling that after all her efforts she might never do much in the china-painting line, caused her to reflect anxiously. "May I think about it and let you know, Mrs. Dredge?" "No, no, my dear, not by any means, for she has advertised, and they are pouring in.
I don't think Mrs. Flint quite liked it; we all questioned her, me, and Miss Slowcum, and Mrs. Mortlock, and we said, 'At any rate give us their address, Mrs. Flint we take an interest in them they are pretty-spoken young ladies, and they were a credit to the establishment. But Mrs. Flint only frowned and bit her lips, and colored. Then Mrs.
Poor Sarah Susan is almost off her head answering the door to them. Stout readers and thin readers, old readers and young readers, they're all flying to the post, as if there were nothing in life so delightful as being 'continual reader' of politics to poor Mrs. Mortlock.
Have you come back to your continual reading, dear? I hope so, for you do the gossip in a very chirruping style." While Mrs. Mortlock was speaking to Primrose Miss Slowcum had taken Daisy in her arms, and covered her sweet little face with kisses, for Miss Slowcum was not all sour and affected, and she had shed some bitter tears in secret over the child's unaccountable disappearance. Mrs.
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