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Brewster, seeing a frown coming over her lord and master's face, as he wondered if his home-life was to be shadowed by a sorrowing widow! The moment Mr. Brewster left for the barn, his wife returned to the "help," who had plumped herself down into the wooden Boston rocker and was fanning herself vigorously with a newspaper. "Let me remove your bonnet, Sary," offered Mrs.
Not that Miss Cornelia concerned herself with painted oceans or sun-thirsty lilies. She sat in her favorite rocker in unusual idleness. She sewed not, neither did she spin. Nor did she say a single derogatory word concerning any portion of mankind.
"How in the deuce," said he, "did you get here so quick?" Madame Beattie rejected the rocker and took a straight chair that kept her affluence of curves in better poise. "Quick after what?" she inquired, with a perfect good-nature.
It was Charlie's capture, Charlie's death which had wrought this havoc in her sister, and she felt that time alone could remove the shadow which had settled itself so hopelessly upon her. Then she began to wonder and worry at the prolonged absence of her Bill. Kate had just finished removing the remains of the evening meal. Helen had curled herself up in the old rocker.
A woman was seated in the kitchen rocker; a stout woman, with her back toward him. The room, in contrast to the bright sunshine without, was shadowy, and Seth, for an instant, could see her but indistinctly. However, he knew who she must be the housekeeper at the bungalow "Basket" or "Biscuit" his helper had said was her name, as near as he could remember it. The lightkeeper ground his teeth.
The maid was a trusted one and close to Betty. "The little boy from the Home, Mrs. Truedale," she replied, "and already the house is cheerfuller." Lynda felt a distinct disappointment. She had hoped that Betty would care for little Ann for a few days, but how could she ask it of her now? In the sunny room upstairs Betty sat in a low rocker, crooning away to a restless bundle in her arms.
Three suitors had kissed it, mounted their red roan steeds and ridden away. In an hour entered the mysterious stranger with the haunting eyes. Helen was in the willow rocker, knitting a useless thing in cotton-wool. He ricocheted from the stairs and stopped for a chat. Sitting across the table from her, he also poured out his narrative of love. And then he said: "Helen, do you not remember me?
"Look away," replied Dozia, falling limply into a very uncertain old willow porch rocker. Jane pulled aside some curtain stretchers, then pried from its corner an old Japanese screen. "There!" she yelled. "There's the door, now we're getting to it.
In the centre of the circle, in Brown's old red-cushioned rocker and most comfortable chair, sat Mrs. Brainard, the exquisitely sophisticated wife of the distinguished specialist close by. Her graceful head, with its slight and becoming touches of gray at the temples, rested like a fine cameo against the warm hue of the cushion.
Purity and conquest, power and welcome, seemed to abide within it, like the empty throne in Parliament. Milburn, being left alone, touched the fairy rocker with his foot. It started so easily and so gracefully, that, when it died away, he pressed his lips to the top of it, nearest where her neck would be, and whispered aloud, with feeling, "God knows that kiss, at least, was pure!"
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