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Updated: May 27, 2025
When more subtle means were required, she was still equal to the occasion. It was while Viola Peet was in the hospital for a burned wrist that Mrs. Burgoyne made a final and effective attempt to move poor little Mrs. Peet out of the bedroom where she had lain complaining, ever since the accident that had crippled her and killed her husband five years before. Mrs.
"Where in the world are you going, Mrs. Peet?" I asked. "Can't be you ain't heared about me, dear?" said she. "Well, the world's bigger than I used to think 't was. I've broke up, 'twas the only thing to do, and I'm a-movin' to Shrewsbury." "To Shrewsbury? Have you sold the farm?" I exclaimed, with sorrow and surprise. Mrs.
Fox from the big upstairs bedroom, and Miss Peet and her sister, the school-teachers, from the hall-room on that floor, and the Winchells, mother and daughter and son, in the two front rooms on the third floor, and the two clerks in the back room. Uncle John and Aunt Adele had the pleasant big back room on the middle floor, and Nana existed darkly in the small room that finished that floor.
"Where in the world are you going, Mrs. Peet?" I asked. "Can't be you ain't heared about me, dear?" said she. "Well, the world's bigger than I used to think 't was. I've broke up, 't was the only thing to do, and I'm a-movin' to Shrewsbury." "To Shrewsbury? Have you sold the farm?" I exclaimed, with sorrow and surprise. Mrs.
As soon as Peet returned after putting Star ashore, she questioned him even more closely. He, good fellow, refused to commit himself to anything which he fancied you might not like, but he told her of my having performed the last rites over the mortal remains of the child's parents, and Mr. Morton wisely counselled her to go at once to me, instead of coming here, as she at first wished to do.
The place here never was good for nothin'. The old gen'leman, uncle, you know, he wore hisself out tryin' to make a livin' off from it." There was an ostentatious sympathy and half-suppressed excitement from bad news which were quite lost upon us, and we did not linger to hear much more. It seemed to me as if I had known Mrs. Peet better than any one else had known her.
See papers by Stephen D. Peet, on the northwestern tribes, read before the state Archaeological Society of Ohio, 1878. Barton, xxv. General W. H. Harrison, "Aborigines of the Ohio Valley." Old "Tippecanoe" was the best possible authority for their courage. "Remarkable Occurrences in the Life and Travels of Col. James Smith," etc., written by himself, Lexington, Ky., 1799.
At my first glance I saw only a perturbed old countrywoman, laden with a large basket and a heavy bundle tied up in an old-fashioned bundle-handkerchief; then I discovered that she was a friend of mine, Mrs. Peet, who lived on a small farm, several miles from the village.
"Where are you going to live in Shrewsbury?" I asked presently. "I don't expect to stop long, dear creatur'. I'm 'most seventy-six year old," and Mrs. Peet turned to look at me with pathetic amusement in her honest wrinkled face.
She wanted some cherry-bounce for Eliza Green, who had an awful pain, and after I'd knocked, I'd have run if I'd dared. In the hall I could hear Mrs. Peet pounding on the floor with her stick. Then her little piping voice: "Mr. Peet, Mr. Peet, you'd better come down! There's some one at the door! You'd better come down, Mr. Peet!" "It's just Mary Cary!" I called. "Miss Bray sent me, Mrs. Peet.
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