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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Hollis, you are right," repeated the master, emphatically, "that is only a whim, but she will graduate the first year, so it doesn't matter." "You see he is proud of his work," said Marjorie, "he will not give any school the credit of me." "I will give you into Miss Prudence's keeping for a term of years, to round you off, to make you more of a woman and less of a student like herself."
The child was very poetical when she lived alone with herself. Miss Prudence's wicker work-basket with its dainty lining of rose-tinted silk, its shining scissors and gold thimble, with its spools and sea-green silk needlebook was a whole poem to the child; she thought the possession of one could make any kind of sewing, even darning stockings, very delightful work.
Under the magic silvery whiteness the lost "parterres and cabinets and lozenges" with their paths and borders stood out as clearly in the moonlight as the day when Madame Prudence's workmen had charted them there. She laughed aloud as she ran back and turned to the map labelled "The twentieth and laft practife which is the most superb and which is The Bifected Oval."
So intent was the girl upon this strange appearance that she did not notice Prudence's return, and as the strange craft disappeared within the undergrowth of the opposite shore, she turned with a start at the sound of her friend's voice beside her. "Another boat," asked Prudence, "or the one we saw before?" "Another." There was a silence; then the two turned away and prepared their dinner.
That man," pointing over at Iredale, who sat waiting for an opportunity to interfere, "is the murderer of Leslie Grey. I suppose he has been priming you with blarney and yarns. But I tell you he murdered Grey. I'm not here for any tomfoolery. I got Prudence's message to say the money was forthcoming. Where is it? Fifteen thousand dollars buys me, and that I want at once.
Kemlo. Deborah had never been alone in the house in the years when her mistress was making a home for herself elsewhere. Over the mantel hung an exquisite engraving of the thorn-crowned head of Christ. The eyes that had wept so many hopeless tears were fixed upon it as Marjorie and Prue entered the chamber. "This is Miss Prudence's little girl Prue," was Marjorie's introduction.
"Oh, well enough, if you consider bare duty," Hervey retorted after a deliberate pause. "Bare duty, indeed!" Prudence's two brown eyes flashed round on him in an instant. "You are the sort of man who should speak of duty, Hervey. You just ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your mother's debt of duty towards you was fulfilled on the day you left the farm years ago.
Miss Prudence's income as well as herself was kept in constant circulation. Marjorie enjoyed it; it was the ideal with which she had painted the bright days of her own future. But then Miss Prudence had money, and she would never have money.
Prudence's nerves were so strung that she felt as though she could strike him for his calm words. Her condition demanded the opposition of passion equal to her own. His coolness maddened her. So long had she dwelt upon the accusation Hervey had brought against him that she believed in this man's guilt.
"Louisa's things aren't pretty at all," she babbled breathlessly, "and Josepha's I can't wear but oh, Grandy, aren't Prudence's just sweet!" "They look like Imprudence's," he bantered as he rose. She brought forth other treasures from under her curved arm. "And look! Little chess men and a little chess board. Get a table! I'll checkmate you before even dinner is ready!
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