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Updated: May 5, 2025
From his birth in an ancient log cabin, with parents who were as poor and miserable as the Trimminses or the Narnays to being president of the Town Council and chairman of the School Committee, was a long stride for Mr. Cross Moore and nobody appreciated the fact more clearly than himself. Money had been the best friend he had ever had.
"I want to see little Sophie, and and her mother." "Whatever you say, Miss," agreed the woodsman. They followed a rather rough street coveward, but arrived safely at the small collection of cottages, in one of which the Narnays lived. Jim Narnay was evidently without money, for he sat on the front stoop, sober and rather neater than Janice was used to seeing him.
Middler right down. Let's drive on, Nelson." The teacher started the car. "And to think," he said softly when the Kremlin had climbed the hill and struck smoother going, "that I have been opposed to your doing anything for these Narnays all the time, Janice. Yet because you were kind, I am saved! It it is wonderful!" "Oh, no, Nelson. It is only what might have been expected," said Janice, softly.
First those Trimminses and now these Narnays!" Janice laughed at this. "Why, they can't hurt me, Nelson. And perhaps I might do them good." "You cannot handle charcoal without getting some of the smut on your fingers," Nelson declared, dogmatically. "But they are not charcoal. They are just some of God's unfortunates," added the young girl, gently. "It is not Sophie's fault that her father drinks.
The flower beds along the hilly street which Janice Day mounted after a visit to the Narnays, were quite scorched now. This street brought Janice out by the Lake View Inn. She, too, saw the threatening cloud and hastened her steps. Sharp lightnings flickered along its lower edge, lacing it with pale blue and saffron. The mutter of the thunder in the distance was like a heavy cannonade.
She went on along the shore to the northward, toward the little group of houses at the foot of the bluff, in one of which the Narnays lived. There were the children grouped together at one end of the rickety front porch. Their mother sat on the stoop, rocking herself to and fro with the sickly baby across her lean knees, her face hopeless, her figure slouched forward and uncouth to look at.
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