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Updated: June 14, 2025
She was a healthy sun-browned brunette of eighteen; had attended the Pineville graded school for three years and the summer before passed the examination and qualified as a teacher. She had been given the school at the forks of the creek and was paid a salary of thirty-five dollars a month, most of which went to pay her father's taxes and for books.
She told him how the war had broken up their old home in Pineville, sending her father to serve in the Confederate councils of Richmond, and leaving her aunt and herself to manage the property alone; how the estate had been devastated, the house destroyed, and how they had barely time to remove a few valuables; how, although SHE had always been opposed to secession and the war, she had not gone North, preferring to stay with her people, and take with them the punishment of the folly she had foreseen.
As John Calhoun now called himself a Republican, his residence at Richmond in a congressional district normally Democratic, did not suit his political ambitions; so in December, following Governor Morrow's election, he removed to Pineville in the Eleventh Congressional District, which was overwhelmingly Republican, and for a lawyer a better business location than Richmond.
"S'posing they don't teach those languages where you go to school, Mun Bun?" suggested Laddie gravely. "I guess they don't in all schools. They don't in the Pineville school, do they, Russ?" "I'll ask Mother to send me to a school where they do," declared Mun Bun before Russ could reply. "I don't need to learn to talk our kind of talk. I know that already.
"Didn't you get a ragged cent from my daddy's real estate office about a month ago?" went on Russ in surprise. "It was in Pineville, where we live when we aren't visiting Grandma Bell. Did you get a ragged coat there?" "Pineville Pineville?" murmured the red-haired lumberman to himself, as if trying to remember. "Yes, I did tramp through there and Hold on!" he cried. "I remember now!
The Capitol reminded Libbie of a pin tray she had at home, and awoke recollection in Betty's mind of a bronze plaque that had been one of Mrs. Arnold's treasures in the stiff little parlor of the Pineville house. All good Americans know the White House and the Capitol long before they make a pilgrimage to Washington. On their arrival at Fairfields they found Mr.
"Sally Dows!" repeated Courtland, with a slight start. "Yes, Sally Dows, of Pineville." "You say she was half Union, but did she have any relations or or friends in the war on your side? Any who were killed in battle?" "They were all killed, I reckon," returned Miss Reed darkly.
"Do you think they could get some down to us? And, Bob, why don't they send for the fire department?" "I suppose because we are not on fire," answered Bob seriously. "What good could the firemen do?" "Oh, I don't know," said Betty vaguely. "Only in Pineville the firemen get people out of all sorts of scrapes. They can climb you know, and they have long ladders and ropes "
"First we'll stick up four posts in the sand, one for each corner of the bungalow." The children had made playhouses before, not only at their home in Pineville, but while they were at Grandma Bell's house, near Lake Sagatook, Maine; so they knew something of what they wanted to do. Of course the bungalow was rather rough. It could not be otherwise with only rough driftwood with which to make it.
"Yes, that's so, he might do it, if he is honest," said Mr. Bunker. "But perhaps he isn't, and maybe he has not yet looked in the pockets of the coat. But I'll just telephone to the police, and see if any of them have seen the tramp that came to my office." There were not many policemen in Pineville, and most of them knew Mr. Bunker.
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