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Updated: June 5, 2025
"Good-evening, all!" he said. "You see I couldn't wait to thank you, Mrs. Carey! No storm could keep me away to-night." "What has mother been doing, now?" asked Nancy. "Her right hand is forever busy, and she never tells her left hand a thing, so we children are always in the dark." "It was nothing much," said Mrs. Carey, pushing the young man gently into the high-backed rocker. "Mrs. Harmon, Mrs.
"As soon as the intercom is functioning again, I think you'd better call a general meeting of officers and get Miss Crannon and Fitzhugh out of bed and get them up here, too." "Why?" Black Bart asked flatly. "Because Snookums has gone off his rocker. He's attacked at least one human being that I know of and has ignored direct orders from a human being." "Who?" asked Black Bart.
There was a sense of glaring mounting light through the window which gave on the cliff. "I wonder what that is," Mother shuddered. "It's like a big fire. I declare it seems as though the whole world was coming to an end to-night." She turned from the window and shivered over the embers, in her golden-oak rocker which Father had filled with cushions.
Livingston shared the couch with him. Foster reclined in Paul's armchair. Sydney Burr sat in the protesting wicker rocker, his crutches beside him, and South, his countenance much disfigured by strips of surgeon's plaster, grinned steadily from the table, where he sat and swung his feet.
She sank into the flag-bottomed rocker by the window, and leaning back her head, uttered no word, but closed her eyes and gave one long, shivering sigh and a dry sob that seemed drawn from the very bottom of her heart. "WAITY, I know what it is; you have found out about me! Who has been wicked enough to tell you before I could do so tell me, who?"
They drew my mother into the house, took off her wraps, set her down in the most comfortable rocker, and insisted on making her a cup of tea. I was touched. I loved them still, and yet I was conscious of reservations concerning them. They, too, seemed a little on the defensive with me, and once in a while Mary was caustic in her remarks.
John Boswell had transferred the comfort, without the needless luxury, from the town home to the In-Place books, pictures, rugs, the winged chair and an equally easy one across the hearth. And, yes, there was her own small rocker close by, as if, in their detachment, they still remembered her and missed her and were ready for her coming!
She was anything but superstitious; but she had seen that swallow, or some of its ancestors, before.... It had flown into the church on the very Sunday of her mother's death.... They had left her sitting in the high-backed rocker by the window, the great family Bible and her spectacles on the little light-stand beside her.... When they returned from church, they had found their mother sitting as they left her, with a smile on her face, but silent and lifeless.... And through the glass of the spectacles, as they lay on the printed page, Vilda had read the words, "For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter;" had read them wonderingly, and marked the place with reverent fingers.... The swallow flew in again, years afterward.... She could not remember the day or the month, but she could never forget the summer, for it was the last bright one of her life, the last that pretty Martha ever spent at the White Farm.... And now here was the swallow again.... "For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter."
"Come into the kitchen where we won't make a noise," she whispered. A fire burned in the kitchen stove. Linda sank into a willow rocker. "I'm weary as Atlas," she said. "I've been fretting for so long. Then late yesterday afternoon they brought him home to me like that. The doctor was probing for the bullet when I wired you. I was in a panic then, I think. Half-past four!
Katherine held her in a close, loving embrace for a moment, then gently forced her into a rocker and knelt beside her, still keeping her arms around her, while she worked mentally for dominion and harmony. But the flood-gates were open wide. The pent-up yearnings of years were let loose, and it was some time before the storm began to abate.
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