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Updated: June 21, 2025
Rosemary's head and shoulders disappeared and Cunningham looked foolish. "Well! Send Mahommed Gunga for the horses. Ride over there to where you see General Evans's column and tell him the whole story. Take a small escort and the treasure with you. And ah er lemme see take this carriage, too. Oh, by the bye you'd better ask General Evans to make some arrangements for Miss McClean.
Mackenzie, and I love Dr. Rob, excepting on those occasions when I long to pick him up by the scruff of his fawn overcoat and drop him out of the window. On the point of Nurse Rosemary's personal appearance, I found it best to be perfectly frank with the household.
Even Rosemary's tiny face was wrapped in a silken veil of white. As for the rest of us, we could not have been mistaken for anything on earth but American automobilists, ruthlessly inspired to see Europe with the sole view to comparing her roads with our own at home. You would have said, on seeing us, that we knew a great deal about roads and very little about home.
The end of track of the new line was diagonally across the creek from the Rosemary's berth and a short pistol-shot farther down stream.
In her walk there was a teasing sense of familiarity; he did not know who she was, but he felt uncomfortably that he ought to know. He fumbled among the litter on the shelf, putting things in order; and all the while his ears were sharpened to the sounds that came muffled through the closed door. "Oh, Luck Lindsay!" came Rosemary's voice at last, with what Luck fancied was a malicious note in it.
The fact was that six year old Shirley was developing the running-away habit at an alarming rate. She came home late that afternoon, tired and cross, and to Rosemary's questions returned the briefest answers. Yes, she had been playing with the Bailey children. No, not in their yard. No, they had not gone with her when she went further on. She had gone by herself.
"Hold on, men, for God's sake! There are women in that car!" The wrathful wave broke and eddied murmurous while a square-shouldered old man with fierce eyes and huge white mustaches, and with an extinct cigar between his teeth, clambered down from the Rosemary's engine to say: "Hah! a ratheh close connection, eh, Misteh Winton? Faveh me with a match, if you please, seh.
"Well, honey, why this haste?" demanded the doctor, stepping back to let her go in first. "You didn't smell Winnie's apple pudding a block away, did you?" "Where have you been, Rosemary?" asked Aunt Trudy, coming into the hall. "Sarah said you said you would be home by half-past four." "What you got?" inquired Sarah, eyeing the parcel under Rosemary's arm with frank curiosity.
"Say, boss, make it short and sweet, can't you?" Andy begged. He was sitting on the floor with his head against Rosemary's knees, and his eyelids were drooping drowsily. "By gracious, nobody'll have to sing me to sleep to-night! I'm about ready to hit the hay right now." "I'll cut out the atmosphere and just stick to the action, then," Luck conceded.
"Bess's darling baby think of holding it, Aunt Rose!" Rosemary's sober eyes flashed joyously. "Oh, I am so I am! An aunt! DOESN'T it seem queer?" "It seems very queer to me," said Mrs. Bancroft, as they sat down on a wide window-seat to revel in the news, "for I went to see your mother, on just such a morning, when Bess herself was just a day old it seems only a year ago! Bless us, how old we get!
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