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Updated: June 21, 2025
Jasmine would have thought herself well repaid if any one had given her Poppy's wages for the old lace; she would indeed have opened her eyes had she known at what sum Miss Egerton valued it. In addition to the lace Jasmine had a little thin gold ring which Mrs. Mainwaring had worn as a guard to her wedding-ring.
It is the Poppy's birthday, and we've got to think only of nice things. Now let's join hands and run down this slope." With Poppy tightly grasped by her two eldest sisters, they flew over the ground as fast as their legs could go. Poppy, her feet scarcely touching the ground, shrieked with the greatest delight.
It was an experiment, and one those about doubted the success of; but Angela never doubted, and presently another cow was added to her stock, and soon after that they all moved to a small farm, where Poppy had to become the little housewife, for Angela's time was quite taken up with her dairy. Poppy's market-gardening scheme never got beyond the bed of parsley.
"You'll be very happy a husband that any woman would be proud of." "Oh, I'm not nearly good enough for Poppy," he said deprecatingly. He seemed used to Poppy's silence, and, indeed, whenever her silent absence from speech was most marked, he bent towards her in a tender attitude which showed a resolution to regard it as maidenly bashfulness. "Well, to get back to my story.
"It was only that old Spanish lace. I always knew it was not worth much. The man only laughed when I asked for Poppy's wages for it. He has given me ten shillings, and I am going off with it to Poppy to-night. Yes, Miss Egerton, I must, I really must." "What have you tried to pawn, Jasmine?" asked Miss Egerton, when she could find her voice. "Surely not that lovely, valuable Spanish lace.
She could count on Poppy's never jarring on any mood, whether grave or gay. Poppy adored listening to poetry read aloud, sitting immovable save for slowly blinking eyes for an hour at a stretch.
Daisy did not ask any more questions, but turned away from the inhospitable gates with a queer sinking in her heart, and a great dizziness before her eyes. She had come all this weary, weary way for nothing. She had taken dear Poppy's last money for nothing. Oh, now there was no doubt at all that God was very angry with her, and that she had been both wicked and selfish.
Her babies could open and shut their eyes, and none of these dolls could do that. Her babies could move, and yawn, and cry, and kick; they were far better than dolls. And mother said God had sent them! He must have known how much she had wanted one of those wax dolls, Poppy thought. Poppy's work soon began in good earnest.
While she was still crooning over it, looking at the pictures, examining the covers, patting it and loving it as though it were a living, feeling thing, the other two came flying in, all excitement. Each held in one hand a letter, in the other a small parcel. "Many happy returns of the day. Oh, you darling!" as they caught sight of Poppy's dark head and beaming face in Esther's bed.
On a log beside him sat a girl of perhaps eighteen years, exceedingly handsome with the flaming kind of beauty like a poppy's, striking to the eye, shallow-petaled. She was vividly effective against the background of deep green spruces and white birch in her bright pink dress and large drooping black hat. Her coloring was brilliant, her lips full, scarlet, ripely sensuous.
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