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Updated: May 12, 2025
Emma Jane was not to be seen in garden, field, or at the window, and Abijah turned his gaze to the large brick house that came next on the other side of the quiet village street. It might have been closed for a funeral. Neither Miss Miranda nor Miss Jane Sawyer sat at their respective windows knitting, nor was Rebecca Randall's gypsy face to be discerned.
Uncle Jerry had never before said so many words at a time, but he had caught sight of the child's red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and his big heart went out to her in her trouble, quite regardless of any circumstances that might have caused it. Rebecca stood still for a moment until uncle Jerry took his seat again at the table, and then, unable to contain herself longer, cried, "Oh, Mr.
Rebecca, his daughter, was a good-looking young woman of twenty at the time she entered Mr. Mordecai's family. Although coarse and ill-bred, she was also shrewd and designing, often making pretence of friendship and affection to gain her ends when in reality hatred and animosity were burning in her bosom. Such was Rebecca Hartz.
It must be perfectly elergant!" said Emma Jane. "But now you say it is love, I think that's the best guess yet." All day long the four words haunted and possessed Rebecca; she said them over to herself continually.
Some people ought to have mutes for servants in Vanity Fair mutes who could not write. If you are guilty, tremble. That fellow behind your chair may be a Janissary with a bow-string in his plush breeches pocket. If you are not guilty, have a care of appearances, which are as ruinous as guilt. "Was Rebecca guilty or not?" the Vehmgericht of tho servants' hall had pronounced against her.
He helped me berry him in the cold cold ground and we sang a him. I dident ask him to pray because he was only a rooster, but he was folks to me. I loved him. It is very lonesome. I dred wakening up tomorrow because he always crowed under my window. The Lord gaveth and the Lord has taken away." This last Rebecca Mary erased once, but she wrote it again after a moment's thought.
"Please God, I shall live long enough," she said, "to thrust Mother Sub-Prioress into a sackcloth shroud; also, to crack nuts upon the sepulchre of Sister Mary Rebecca." But none of these remarks reached the Prioress.
Aunt Miranda, my hateful hat!" cried Rebecca, never remembering at the instant how often she had prayed that the "fretful porcupine" might some time vanish in this violent manner, since it refused to die a natural death.
"It seems to me" the minister spoke impressively "that it is not Rebecca Mary who has gone crazy " "Why, the idea! Haven't I made it plain?" laughed she. "I'll speak in A B C's then. Rebecca Mary was SKIPPING, Robert skipping skipping." "Then it's Rebecca Mary," the minister murmured. "That's what I'm afraid didn't I say so? Or else it's her second childhood " "First, you mean.
He selected a room on the second floor not a front room, but one on the side looking toward the Colfax estate. The room on the other side, across the hall, was taken by Miss Rebecca Timpson, who had taught the "upstairs" classes in the Wellmouth school ever since she was nineteen, a considerable period of time.
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