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Updated: June 20, 2025
Overtheway, "old as I am, I remember distinctly many of the unrecognized vexations, longings, and disappointments of childhood.
John Bunyan, and called her Mrs. Overtheway; and morning after morning, though the bread-and-milk breakfast smoked upon the table, she would linger at the window, beseeching "One minute more, dear Nurse! Please let me wait till Mrs. Overtheway has gone to church." And when the little old lady had come out and gone, Ida would creep from her perch, and begin her breakfast.
Overtheway's behalf; but it may be believed that after a certain point this one-sided conversation flagged. One day Nurse overheard Ida's low murmurs. "What are you talking about, Miss Ida?" said she. "I am pretending to have Mrs. Overtheway to tea," said Ida. "Little girls shouldn't pretend what's not true," replied Nurse, in whose philosophy fancy and falsehood were not distinguished.
Overtheway was silent again. She was looking down, and twisting some of the rings upon her little hand, and Ida felt ashamed of having asked. "I beg your pardon," she said, imploringly. "I was very rude, dear Mrs. Overtheway; tell me what you like, please." "You are a good child," said the little old lady, "a very good child, my dear.
Overtheway was present, she must have imagined her borne off at the crisis of the meal after a fashion not altogether consistent with an old lady's dignity. Summer passed, and winter came on.
It was a sweet, clear, gentle voice; musical, though no longer young; such a voice as one seldom hears and never forgets, which came out of the darkness, saying: "It is not Nurse, my dear; she is making the tea, and gave me leave to come up alone. I am Mrs. Overtheway."
And Papa wrote me a long letter when he was on the island, and he sent it to Mrs. Overtheway because Uncle Garbett told him that I was fond of her, and that she would tell me nicely, and she was to read it, and to give it to me when she had told me. And it is such a lovely letter, with all about the island, and poor Barker, and dear old Carlo, and about the beautiful birds, too, only Mrs.
Chim! chime! went the bells next morning, and Mrs. Overtheway came down the white steps and through the green gate with a bunch of primroses in her hand. She looked up as usual, but not to the sky. She looked to the windows of the houses over the way, as if she expected some one to be looking for her.
Overtheway laughed, too, at Ida's rambling account, and the two were in high good-humour. "What shall I do to amuse you?" asked the little old lady. "You couldn't tell me another story?" said Ida, with an accent that meant, "I hope you can!"
Overtheway, putting her little feet upon the fender to warm, began the story of "It did not move my grief, to see The trace of human step departed, Because the garden was deserted, The blither place for me! "Friends, blame me not! a narrow ken Hath childhood 'twixt the sun and sward: We draw the moral afterward We feel the gladness then." "I remember," said Mrs.
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