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Updated: June 18, 2025
"No," gasped the telephone operator, for Jack saw it was he; "the whole office is in flames. I couldn't get inside the door." Mayor Davis, the first speaker, turned quickly about. "Then we'll run down to Orr's and telegraph." At once Jack understood. The mayor wished to send for help from other towns. He sprang forward. "I'm here, Mr. Davis Jack Orr. I'll take a message!" "Good!" said the mayor.
She had not answered Ellen's foolish little questions; but now she felt sure that any man, possessed of his normal faculties, could hardly fail to become aware of Lydia Orr's delicate beauty.
"You haven't finished your account of that interesting pleasure excursion of Jim's and Miss Orr's," said Ellen. "Isn't it lovely Jim can drive her car? Is he going to be her regular chauffeur? And do you get an occasional joy-ride?" "Of course not," Fanny said indignantly. "Oh, Ellen, how can you go on like that! I'm sure you don't care a bit about Jim or me, either." "I do!" declared Ellen.
"Oh, nothing, only I met the minister coming out of Lydia Orr's house one day awhile ago, and he was walking along as if he'd been sent for Never even saw me. I had a good mind to speak to him, anyway; but before I could think of anything cute to say he'd gone by two-forty on a plank road!" Fanny was silent. She was wishing she had not asked Ellen to tell.
Our young gentleman and young lady of Orr's Island went through with this customary little lie of civilized society with as much gravity as if they were practicing in the court of Versailles, she looking out from the corner of her eye to watch the effect of her words, and he laying his hand on his heart in the most edifying gravity. They perfectly understood one another.
Now, I cannot think of anything more unlikely and uninteresting to make a story of than that old brown "linter" house of Captain Zephaniah Pennel, down on the south end of Orr's Island.
I guess the country 'round Brookville must be real pretty this time of year." "Yes; it is, real pretty," she had told the Grenoble woman. And this had been the simple prelude to Lydia Orr's appearance in Brookville. Wooded hills did not interest Mrs. Black, nor did the meandering of the silver river through its narrow valley.
He was instantly ashamed of the innocent prevarication. But he told himself he did not choose to discuss Miss Orr's affairs with Mrs. Black. Just then Lydia came in, her eyes shining, her cheeks very pink; but like the minister she seemed disposed to silence, and Mrs. Black was forced to restrain her curiosity.
The sea lay like an unbroken mirror all around the pine-girt, lonely shores of Orr's Island.
At this moment there steps behind her chair a tall, lithe figure, a face with a rich Spanish complexion, large black eyes, glowing cheeks, marked eyebrows, and lustrous black hair arranged in shining braids around her head. It is our old friend, Sally Kittridge, whom common fame calls the handsomest girl of all the region round Harpswell, Maquoit, and Orr's Island.
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