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Nanna came forward, shaking out a child's frock. A frock of pure white silk, embroidered round the neck and wrists with a deep border of daisies, pink and white and gold. "Nanna!" "Oh, mummy, what is it?" Peggy touched a daisy with her soft forefinger and shrank back shyly. She knew it was her birthday, but she did not know whether the frock had anything to do with that, or no.
This was the last thing Nanna had expected the boy to ask, for, of course, Timmy had a Bible of his own, a beautiful thin-paper Bible, which she herself had given him on his seventh birthday, having first asked his mother's leave if she might do so. The Bible was in perfect condition. Emily Pew.
Nanna who during the busy activity of the morning had successfully endeavored to suppress her sorrow, was so much overcome as she was about stepping into the boat that she nearly fainted.
A deep hush fell on all created things, and every eye was fixed on the great ship riding near the shore, and on the funeral pyre rising from the deck crowned with the forms of Balder and Nanna. Suddenly a gleam of light flashed over the water; the pile had been kindled, and the flames, creeping slowly at first, climbed faster and faster until they met over the dead and rose skyward.
He was talking rather quickly now, as if at last aware of something painful, awkward, in the atmosphere. "Others all out?" he asked. "Perhaps you'll show me my room, godson?" "Wouldn't you like to see Nanna?" asked Timmy officiously. "She's so looking forward to seeing you.
By this plan, the annoyance was avoided of carrying the huge baskets through the whole length of the convent, to and from the main entrance, which was also much further removed from the house of Sora Nanna, the chief laundress.
And Christine looked at David, and ceased speaking, for she was afraid that her words would both anger and trouble the young man. But David's eyes were full of happy tears, and there was a tender smile round his mouth. He was thinking of the glad surprises that Nanna must have had she who belonged to the God of compassions.
It struck her that Walter was not looking by any means too happy himself. "It doesn't matter; only, we don't want to dash her down, first thing, do we?" "No no. Dear Edith. And there's Nanna how sweet of her and Kate, and Mary, too." The old nurse stood on the doorstep to welcome them; her fellow-servants were behind her, smiling, at the door.
They were listening to a speaker who, standing upright in the wagon-body, was haranguing them earnestly. Nanna recognized him Prosper, the priest. It was the old story repentance, the wrath of the Shining One, and the imminence of the judgment.
I shall not eat or sleep till I hear it." "'Tis a tale of dishonor and unthankfulness, and not so well known to me as to Jorn Thorkel. He can tell it all, and will gladly do so." "But for all that, I will hear it from you, Nanna, and you only, for it concerns us only. Tell me what you know, and the rest can wait for Jorn."
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