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Updated: April 30, 2025
The runaway flashed him a hostile glance. "Don't be silly! What difference does it make? Haven't I a cruel stepmother that is constantly making scenes if I do the least little thing, especially since Miss Murtree went home because her mother has typhoid in Buffalo. You wait till I get the right clothes." "Does she beat you something awful?" demanded the Merle twin unctuously.
It says Ben Blunt was a sturdy lad of good habits. Besides, I could smoke if I wanted to. I already have. I smoked Harvey D.'s pipe." "Who's Harvey D.?" "My father. I smoked his pipe repeatedly." "Repeatedly?" "Well, I smoked it twice. That's repeatedly, ain't it? I'd have done it more repeatedly, but Miss Murtree sneaked in and made a scene." "Did you swallow the smoke through your nose?"
He was such a son as Harvey D. had hoped to have. Old Gideon Whipple, too, was proud of his new grandson. The stepmother, for whom Fate had been circumvented by this device of adoption, looked up to the boy and rejoiced in her roundabout motherhood, and Miss Murtree declared that he was a perfect little gentleman.
"Murtree," she corrected him, and spoke her thanks with a brightening glance. "Here," she added, proffering her treasure, "take a good long suck if you want to." He did want to. His brother beheld him with anguished eyes. As Merle demonstrated the problem in hydraulics the girl studied him more attentively, then gleamed with a sudden new radiance. "Oh, I'll tell you what let's do!" she exclaimed.
"We have fine new Sunday suits at home," boasted Merle. "Too fine to wear every day. If you saw those clothes once I guess you'd talk different. Shoes and stockings, too." The girl effaced his grandeur with a shrug. "That's nothing everyone has mere Sunday clothes." "Is Miss Murtree that old lady that brings you to the Sunday-school?" demanded Wilbur.
She wondered if Patricia could be getting in with a fast set. She was further worried about Patricia, because Miss Murtree, over the ice cream, had confided to her that the girl was a brainless coquette; that her highest ambition, freely stated, was to have a black velvet evening gown, a black picture hat, and a rope of pearls. Winona did not impart this item to Wilbur.
"Well, I don't know." "I'd give you a lot of money to buy some." "Let's see it." Surprisingly the girl stuck out a foot. Her ankle seemed badly swollen; she seemed even to reveal incipient elephantiasis. "Money!" she announced. "Busted my bank and took it all. And I put it in my stocking the way Miss Murtree did when she went to Buffalo to visit her dying mother.
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