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Updated: July 25, 2025
Mam hed her christened Pinkrosia, along o' her bein' so fond o' roses, Mam was; but we don't call her nothin' only Pink." "Pink Chirk!" repeated Hilda to herself. "What a name! What can a girl be like who is called Pink Chirk?" But now Bubble seemed to think that it was his turn to ask questions. "I reckon you're the gal that's come to stay at Mr. Hartley's?" he said in an interrogative tone.
But now! why that boy comes into the house singin' and spoutin' poetry at the top of his lungs, jest as happy as a kitten with a spool. What was that he was shoutin' this mornin', Pinkrosia, when he scairt the old black hen nigh to death?" "'Charge for the golden lilies! Upon them with the lance!" murmured Pink, with a smile. "Yes, that was it!" said Mrs. Chirk.
She greeted Hilda with nervous cordiality, and thanked her earnestly for her kindness to Zerubbabel. "He ain't the same boy, Miss Graham," she said, "sence you begun givin' him lessons. He used to fret and worrit 'cause there warn't no school, and he couldn't ha' gone to it if there was. Pinkrosia learned him what she could; but we hain't many books, you see.
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