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Updated: May 27, 2025
She appeared well satisfied, Mis' Fulham did; but for me, I was disappointed; an' early that fall she died." Abby Pendexter was laughing like a girl; the speaker's tone had grown more and more complaining. "I do call that a funny experience," she said. "'Better a dinner o' herbs. I guess that text must ha' risen to your mind in connection.
You know I have to avoid bein' out in the mornin' sun?" Miss Pendexter smiled to herself at this moment; she was obliged to move from her chair at the window, the May sun was so hot on her back, for Mrs. Bickford always kept the curtains rolled high up, out of the way, for fear of fading and dust. The kitchen was a blaze of light. As for the Sunday chaise being sent, it was well known that Mrs.
As Miss Pendexter went down the foot-path to the gate, she sent grateful thoughts back to the little sitting-room she had just left. "How doors are opened!" she exclaimed to herself. "Here I 've been so poor an' distressed at beginnin' the year with nothin', as it were, that I could n't think o' even goin' to make poor old Aunt Cynthy a friendly call.
But then, as Anne said to Diana later on, anybody so divinely beautiful as Mrs. Pendexter didn't need to talk; it was enough for her just to LOOK. After dinner they all had a walk through Lover's Lane and Violet Vale and the Birch Path, then back through the Haunted Wood to the Dryad's Bubble, where they sat down and talked for a delightful last half hour. Mrs.
"Oh, no, I never send her word," said Miss Pendexter. "She 'd be so desirous to get everything ready, just as she used to." "She never seemed to make any trouble o' havin' company; she always appeared so easy and pleasant, and let you set with her while she made her preparations," said Mrs. Hand, with great approval.
Hand, speaking wistfully, "no, we never were in the habit of keeping Christmas at our house. Mother died when we were all young; she would have been the one to keep up with all new ideas, but father and grandmother were old-fashioned folks, and well, you know how 't was then, Miss Pendexter: nobody took much notice of the day except to wish you a Merry Christmas."
Both of the women felt as if they were powerless before a great emergency. "There's one thing, they're all in a better world now," said Miss Pendexter, in a self-conscious and constrained voice; "they can't feel such little things or take note o' slights same's we can." "No; I suppose 't is myself that wants to be just," answered Mrs. Bickford.
Bickford nodded assent, and then, startled by sudden recollection, she cast a quick glance at the rose in the window. "I always seem to forget about your first husband, Mr. Fraley," Miss Pendexter suggested bravely. "I've often heard you speak of him, too, but he'd passed away long before I ever knew you." "He was but a boy," said Mrs. Bickford.
"I don't know which I enjoyed more . . . listening to Mrs. Morgan or gazing at Mrs. Pendexter. I believe we had a nicer time than if we'd known they were coming and been cumbered with much serving. You must stay to tea with me, Diana, and we'll talk it all over." "Priscilla says Mrs.
Abby Pendexter did not join in this conversation, but sat in her straight backed chair with folded hands and the air of a good child. The little old dog had followed her in, and now lay sound asleep again at her feet. The front breadth of her black dress looked rusty and old in the sunshine that slanted across it, and the aunt's sharp eyes saw this and saw the careful darns.
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