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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Say, Rowton, wrap up that little merror an' them side-combs an' send 'em along, too, please. So long!" Part II Time: Same morning. Plate: Store in Washington. Second Monologue, by Mrs. Trimble: "Why, howdy, Mis' Blakes howdy, Mis' Phemie howdy, all. Good-mornin', Mr. Lawson. I see yo' sto'e is fillin' up early. Great minds run in the same channel, partic'larly on Christmus Eve.
Before the year is out Grant thinks it ought to go up ten per cent on the value of the terminus, and that a hundred thousand." "Oh, dad!" gasped Phemie, frantically clasping her knees with both hands as if to perfectly assure herself of this good fortune. Mrs.
"When Elphin Irving and his sister Phemie were in their sixteenth year, for tradition says they were twins, their father was drowned in Corriewater, attempting to save his sheep from a sudden swell, to which all mountain streams are liable; and their mother, on the day of her husband's burial, laid down her head on the pillow, from which, on the seventh day, it was lifted to be dressed for the same grave.
Harkutt remained gazing abstractedly at the smiling speaker. From the window above the impatient Phemie was wondering why he kept the strangers waiting in the rain while he talked about things that were perfectly plain. It was so like a man! "Then there's a waterway straight to Tasajara Creek?" he said slowly.
The traveller, after making sure that Dobson was looking, furtively slipped the key of the trunk into his knapsack. "Well, good-bye, Auntie Phemie," he said. "I'm sure you've been awful kind to me, and I don't know how to thank you for all you're sending." "Tuts, Dickson, my man, they're hungry folk about Glesca that'll be glad o' my scones and jeelie.
Dolly shuddered, Lady Augusta's own semi-tragic shudder, if Phemie had only recognized it. "Phemie," she said, with a touch of pardonable anxiety, "ill as I look, I am not that color, am I? To lose one's figure and grow thin is bad enough, but to become like Madame Pillet dear me!" shaking her head. "I scarcely think I could reconcile myself to existence." Phemie laughed.
Not a soul was about, so they breasted the ascent of the station road and turned down the grassy bypath to the Laverfoot herd's. The herd's wife saw them from afar and was at the door to receive them. "Megsty! Phemie Morran!" she shrilled. "Wha wad ettle to see ye on a day like this? John's awa' at Dumfries, buyin' tups. Come in, the baith o' ye. The kettle's on the boil."
Whatever more exacting people might have thought, Phemie was quite satisfied. "I wish I was in your place, Dolly," she said, as she was going away. "You seem so happy together here, somehow or other. Oh, dear! You don't know how dreadful our house seems by contrast. If things would break or upset, or look a little untidy, or if mamma's caps and dresses just would n't look so solid and heavy "
The stranger noted his glance, and suddenly passed his hand thoughtfully over his shaven cheeks. "No," he said "yes, surely, I forget yes, I see; of course you don't! Rosy," turning to his wife, "of course Pinkney doesn't know Phemie, eh?" "No, nor ME either, Sol," said that lady warningly. "Certainly!" continued Sol. "It's his misfortune. You weren't with me at Gold Hill.
And now I shall be so frightened and unhappy!" "Phemie," said Dolly, quietly, "you have not frightened me; so you haven't the least need to trouble yourself, my dear." But she was not exactly sorry to be left alone, and when she was alone her thoughts wandered back to that first evening Phemie had called, the evening she had gone to the glass to look at her changed face.
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