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Updated: September 1, 2025


Adolph Kunkel whispered the reminiscence behind the back of his hand. "My real favorite is bean soup," admitted Mr. Terriberry, and Mrs. Terriberry looked mortified at this confession of her husband's vulgar preferences. "It's very nourishing," declared Mrs. Starr tremulously. "And delicious, too, when properly served." Mrs. Percy Parrott curled her little finger elegantly and toyed with a spoon.

"You might just as well know it's makin' talk," ventured the constable, taking a safer position near the door. A queer sort of embarrassment that he noted in the Cap'n's visage emboldened him. "You know just as well as I do that Ferd Parrott has gone and took to sellin' licker.

Parrott's brother was a sea-captain who had sent him "stuffed" natural-history curios from all parts of the world, and Mr. Parrott had arranged a rather picturesque interior.

So letters had to fly back and forth from the parsonage and the King estate in the big city, and Miss Parrott wrote long letters in a pinched, lady-like hand in very faint ink, crossing the paper whenever she was afraid she hadn't said enough to plead her cause successfully. Which condition of mind she was in perpetually, all through these writing days. These letters old Mr.

Miss Parrott, in the stiff, black silk gown that she had worn the day when she called at the parsonage, met her on the big stone steps. She put out a hand in a long, black lace mitt, "I am very glad to see you, child," she said, in old-time hospitality. But no hospitality, old-time or any other, had a pleasant effect on Rachel.

In the stable, the hostler, a one-eyed servitor, with the piping voice, wobbly gait, and shrunken features of the "white drunkard," was in his usual sociable state of intoxication, and declared that he would stick by them. He testified slobberingly as to his devotion to Mr. Parrott, declared that when the women descended Mr.

"Perhaps you would like a little refreshment," suggested Miss Parrott, when, the child's bonnet off, she was seated on the edge of a stiff, high-backed chair.

"Oh, dear!" she brought up suddenly, flushed and panting. "What is the matter, Rachel?" Miss Parrott let her hands rest on the yellow ivory keys and looked over her shoulder at her. "Oh, I can't dance," said Rachel, "when you play so funnily. It doesn't go like that; it goes so."

It was a wild little thing that she had heard from the hand organs and the people singing it in the streets of the big city. Just then old Miss Parrott's stately, ancestral coach drove up. The parson's wife hurried to the front door, which was seldom opened except for special company like the present. "I heard," said Miss Parrott, as Mrs.

Hyar ter-day an' thar ter-morrer. Rides light. Two leetle Parrott guns is the most weight he carries." The idiot's eyes began to widen with slow and baffled speculation. "Whut w-whut ails him ter take arter Tangle-foot? W-w " his great loose lips trembled with unformed words as he gazed his eager inquiry from one to another.

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