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Updated: June 29, 2025
They kept at home from the hour of sunset, and would not venture about the house after night-fall, except in couples. The knocking had ceased for about a week; when one night, Mrs. Prosser being in the nursery, her husband, who was in the parlour, heard it begin very softly at the hall-door. The air was quite still, which favoured his hearing distinctly.
"My dear, dear John, how delighted I am to see you back; I hardly expected you so soon!" exclaimed Agnes Prosser, after exchanging a most loving salutation with her husband. "Why, I thought," was the answer, with somewhat of reproach in its tone, "that you knew I should be here this afternoon." "Oh yes; but hardly so soon. Well, I am so sorry; it was too bad not to be at home to welcome you.
I remember well the look of comfort that swept over his worn features as she laid the soothed arm back into place. By the middle of January the snow measured twelve and fourteen feet in depth. Nothing could be seen of our abode except the coils of smoke that found their way up through the opening. There was a dearth of water. Prosser Creek was frozen over and covered with snow.
Partly nourished by a stranger, and partly brought up by hand, and missing those numberless little attentions which either ignorance or a mind otherwise occupied prevented Mrs Prosser from giving to the frail being who had brought into the world with it a delicacy of constitution due, in a considerable degree, to its mother's overstrain of mind and body, the baby pined and drooped, and, spite of medicine, prayers, and tears, soon closed its weary eyes on a world which had used it but roughly, to wing its way into a land unclouded by sin or sorrow.
Don't read that hooey put out by an inspired reporter who blames the laxness of the city government; I'll give you the facts without embellishment. Nothing beyond the bare fact of the disappearance is known about the first case. Robert Prosser, aged eleven, was sent to the grocery store by his mother about six-thirty last night and failed to return.
"I mean thus," continued Miss Maltby. "Let us take an example. I have some young lady friends who have joined an `early-rising club. They are to get up and be downstairs by a certain hour every morning, or pay a forfeit, and are to keep a strict account of their regularities or irregularities, as the case may be." "And what harm do you see in this?" asked Dr Prosser.
We crowd the mind and memory with knowledge of all sorts, that they may shine in society: we forget to teach them first and foremost how to make home happy. It was so with Mrs Prosser. She had overstrained her mind with the burden of a multitude of acquirements and accomplishments, which had not, after all, made her truly accomplished.
Prosser discontinued his angry talk and swearing about it, and seemed nearly as averse from the subject as the rest of his family. He grew, in fact, very uncomfortable, feeling an inward persuasion that when, in answer to the summons, he had opened the hall-door, he had actually given admission to the besieger. He said nothing to Mrs.
And here was another prediction of hers, equally improbable, fulfilled to the letter. 'Great Scott! he cried. 'Are you going to be married? Mr Prosser and the manager started simultaneously. 'Mrs Dorman said you would be, said Owen. 'Don't you remember? Mr Prosser looked keenly at him. 'Why, I've seen you before, he said. 'You're the young turnip-headed scallywag at the farm.
A large man, seated with his back to the door, turned as he entered, and Owen recognized the well-remembered features of Mr Prosser, the literary loaf-slinger. Owen regarded him without resentment. Since returning to London he had taken the trouble of looking up his name in Who's Who and had found that he was not so undistinguished as he had supposed.
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