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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Remember, my dears, that we're all crooks together," he prompted in a soft voice, that had a steely suggestion beneath it. "And in case you fail to stand by me it would give me very great pain very great pain, I assure you to have to blow on you." Matilda gulped, blinked her eyes, and looked helplessly at Mrs. De Peyster. Mr. Pyecroft turned to the latter.
You cannot merely announce that you are going abroad! You are a person of importance your every move is observed. People will see that you do not sail. How will you get around that?" It sounded a poser. But Mrs. De Peyster was unruffled. "Very simply, Olivetta. You shall sail in my stead." "Me!" cried Olivetta, yet more bewildered. "Yes, you."
"I suppose, Miss Thompson, you are not aware how much you look like a certain great lady, a famous social leader? To be explicit, like Mrs. De Peyster?" She sank back, mere jelly with a human contour. So she was discovered! She rolled her eyes wildly toward Matilda; Matilda rolled wild eyes toward her. "It is really a remarkable likeness," went on the low voice of the Reverend Mr. Pyecroft.
And then after a moment, she added quaveringly: "But please, ma'am, how are we going to do it?" The outraged and annihilatory Mrs. De Peyster gazed at Matilda, utterer of practical common-places. As she gazed the splendid flames within her seemed slowly to flicker out, and she sank back upon her bed. Yes, how were they going to do it?
People will know the difference!" "People will never see you," returned the calm voice of Mrs. De Peyster. "The Plutonia sails at one to-night. You will go on board with my trunks late this evening, heavily veiled. Since no one must see you on the way over, you must of course, keep to your cabin. You must be seasick." "But I am never seasick!" cried Olivetta.
Silence. "Or smile?" Silence. "Or forget that she was a De Peyster?" Silence. "The lady of that picture never did!" declared the little person with conviction. "She's just dignity and pride calm, remote, lofty, icebergy pride. She can say her ancestors backwards. Why, she's her family tree, petrified!" Mrs. De Peyster did not feel called upon to add to these remarks.
Mayfair did get in?" Imperceptibly prodded Mr. Pyecroft. "He would merely write a piece about you for his paper." "And his confounded piece, or the main facts in it, would be cabled to Europe!" "Ah, I think I see," said Mr. Pyecroft. "Mrs. De Peyster would read about your marriage in the Paris 'Herald' or some other European paper. You do not wish your mother to know of your marriage yet."
De Peyster searched frantically for the keyhole to the inner door. "Matilda, I'm not the man to take that!" he declared irefully. "What do you mean?" "Go! Go!" she gasped. He drew back wrathfully, but with an awful dignity. "Very well, Miss Simpson. But I'm not a man that forgives. You'll be sorry for this!" As he started stiffly away Mrs. De Peyster found the keyhole.
I pass them by with the mention, as I have passed by the sterner horrors of that furious killing-time. These last are too large for my poor pen. As we could gather in the din and tumult, the mountain men rushed again and again to the attack, and as often the brave major, or De Peyster, led the bayonet charges that pushed them back.
"Housekeepers don't sport this kind of jewelry. What are you? Housebreakers sneak thieves confidence game?" Mrs. De Peyster gaped at him. "I I don't understand." "It's really a pretty fair front you're putting up," he commented with a dry indulgent smile. "But might as well drop it, for you see I'm on. But I think I understand." He nodded.
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