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Updated: June 21, 2025
The cab stopped in front of the same square white house, with the cupola, and the same great trees in the front yard. Mary Leonard and Lucy Eastman clasped each other's hands in silent delight as they walked up the box-bordered path. "Tell Miss Pinsett that Lucy Eastman and and Mary Greenleaf have come to see her," they said to the elderly respectable maid.
It was during the last verse that the parlor door opened softly, and a tall, fine-looking man, erect, with beautiful silver curling hair, and firm lines about the handsome, clean-shaven mouth, appeared on the threshold and stood waiting. As the singing finished, Miss Pinsett shook her head at him. "You were always coming in and breaking up the singing, Tom Endover," she said.
The shadows grew longer, the room dimmer, and Miss Pinsett had the maid throw open the blinds to let in the western sunlight. A shaft of illumination fell across one of the Japanese vases, and a dragon blinked, and the smooth round head of a mandarin gleamed. There was an old-fashioned trumpet-creeper outside the window.
Haberton hoped it would pass off; Claudia was not to feel alarmed; Pinsett had again proved herself invaluable, and between them they could nurse the patient comfortably. Claudia hastened to the second letter. Her fears were justified.
Then she insisted on their laying off their things, and they laid them off because they always had when she asked them. "You've grown stout, Mary Greenleaf," said old Miss Pinsett. "I know I have," she answered, "and I'm not Mary Greenleaf, though I sent that name up to you I'm Mary Leonard." "I wondered if neither of you were married." "I'm a widow, Miss Pinsett," said Mary Leonard, soberly.
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