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Updated: May 16, 2025
Jonathan, was the outcome of a strong, though undisciplined, moral passion within her. In her way, Molly was as stern a moralist as Sarah Revercomb, but she derived her convictions from no academic system of ethics. Kesiah had heard of her as a coquette; now she realized that beneath the coqueteries there was a will of iron.
Doolittle, havin' had the experience of ninety years, that when a man once takes up with a heresy, he shouts a heap louder than them that was born an' baptised in it? It seems as if they can't desert the ancient ways without defying 'em as well." "'Tis so, 'tis so," admitted old Adam, wagging his head, "but Abel Revercomb was al'ays the sort that could measure nothin' less than a bushel.
In the road he came face to face with Jonathan Gay, who was riding leisurely in the direction of Jordan's Journey. "How are you, Revercomb? All well?" "Yes, all well, thank you." Turning in his tracks, he gazed thoughtfully after the rider for a moment.
"If you love any man on earth to-day, you love me." At his first change from tenderness to accusation, her face hardened and her voice returned to her control. "What right have you to judge me, Abel Revercomb?" she asked angrily. "I've had one sermon preached at me to-day, and I'll not listen to another." "You know I'm not preaching at you, Molly, but I'm a man of flesh and blood, not of straw.
"I suppose Revercomb dug, but it isn't as a rule a man's habit to go around with a spade when he's in want of a wife." With an impetuous movement, he bent closer to her: "Look here, Molly, don't you think you might kiss me?" "I told you the first time I ever saw you that I didn't care for kissing." "Well, even if you don't care, can't you occasionally be generous?
Behind him sat the miller and Blossom Revercomb, who threw an occasional anxious glance at the empty seat beside Mrs. Gay and Kesiah; and behind them Judy Hatch raised her plain, enraptured face to the pulpit, where the rector had shaken out an immaculately ironed handkerchief and wiped his brow. She knew who had ironed that handkerchief on Wednesday, which was Mrs.
I shouldn't like to marry a Revercomb, when it comes to that." "Shouldn't you?" she asked and laughed merrily. "They say down at Bottoms," he went on, "that she's gone moonstruck about Mr. Jonathan, an' young Adam Doolittle swears he saw them walkin' together on the other side of old orchard hill." "I thought she was too sensible a girl for that." "They're none of 'em too sensible.
What put that into your head?" she retorted indignantly. The idea, innocent as it was, appeared to incense her. What a little firebrand she looked, and how hot her eyes glowed when she was angry! "Well, I'm glad you haven't because, you know, really it wouldn't do," he answered. "What wouldn't do?" "Your marrying a Revercomb it wouldn't do in the least." "Why wouldn't it?"
Revercomb?" he replied, advocating in his resentment a principle which he would have been the first to rap soundly had it been advanced by one of his parishioners. "I mean, of course, in the matter of driving." "When do you go?" asked Judy suddenly, and turned her face away because she could not trust herself to meet his beautiful, earnest eyes. "Within a fortnight.
Mullen has accepted a call to larger fields?" he inquired, "an' that Judy Revercomb has gone clean daft because he's going to leave us?" "She didn't have far to go," observed Mrs. Bottom. "Well, you'd never have known it to look at her," commented young Adam, "but 'tis a true sayin' that you can't tell the quality of the meat by the colour of the feathers."
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