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Updated: May 11, 2025
He invited Charmian to take part in various bats, for the purpose of shocking the Pymantoning propriety of Cornelia, and they got such fun out of it as children do when the make-believe of their elders has been thinned to the most transparent pretence; but Charmian, who knew he was making fun of her, remained as passionately attached to the ideal he mocked as ever; and Cornelia had the guilty pang of wondering what he would think of her if he knew all about Mr.
They made themselves like a youngish aunt and uncle to him, and had him with them all they could while they stayed in Paris. When they came home they brought the first impressionistic pictures ever seen in the West; at Pymantoning, the village cynic asked which was right side up, and whether he was to stand on his head or not to get them in range.
To be sure, he had no time for that; but there was something in it all which put Cornelia back to the mere child she was when they first met in the Fair House at Pymantoning; she kept seeing herself angry and ill-mannered and cross to her mother, and it was as if he saw her so, too.
Have you ever been at the County Fair at Pymantoning since " He stopped, and Cornelia perceived that it was with doubt whether it might not still be a tender point with her. "Oh, yes, I've forgiven the Fair long ago." She laughed, and he laughed with her. "It's best not to keep a grudge against a defeat, I suppose. If we do, it won't help us.
Suddenly he set a large picture on the easel that quite filled the frame. "Trotting Match at the Pymantoning County Fair," he announced, and he turned away and began to make tea in a little battered copper kettle over a spirit-lamp, on a table strewn with color-tubes in the corner. "Ah, yes," said Mrs. Westley. "I remember this at the American Artists; three or four years ago, wasn't it?
Her good looks and her good nature are about all she has left in the world, except this daughter." "Are they very poor?" asked Ludlow, gently. "Oh, nobody's very poor in Pymantoning," said Mrs. Burton. "And Mrs. Saunders has her business, when she's a mind to work at it."
Cornelia tried to make believe that she did not know who it was; she recoiled, but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, and she could not gainsay him when he demanded joyfully, "Why, Nie! Why, Nelie! Don't you remember me? Dickerson, J. B., with Gates & Clarkson, art goods? Pymantoning? Days of yore, generally? Oh, pshaw, now!"
I don't know as I want to be back under Tweet's thumb, but I guess the Scripture was about right where it says it ain't good for a man to be alone. When d'you leave Pymantoning, Nelie?" "It makes no difference when I left." Cornelia got to her feet, trembling. "And I'll thank you not to call me by my first name, Mr. Dickerson. I don't know why you should do it, and I don't like it."
"I don't know," the writer said, "as you expected to hear from me, and I don't know as I expected to let you, but circumstances alter cases, and I just wanted to drop you a line and tell you that I have been in Pymantoning and seen your mother. She is looking prime, and younger than ever. We had a long talk about old times, and I told her what a mistake I made.
I've had my quarrel with the Pymantoning County Fair, too; but it wasn't with the Fine Arts Committee." "No, I didn't suppose you wanted to exhibit anything there," said Cornelia. "Why, I don't know. It might be a very good thing for me. Why not? I'd like to exhibit this very picture there. It's an impression not just what I'd do, now of the trotting-match I saw there that day."
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