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His low-buttoned vest exposed his shirt-buttons of crystal and gilt, and a ruffle, ironed by Roxy's slender hands with nimble touches, parted down the middle like sea foam on shell, and similar ruffles at the wrists were clasped by chain buttons of pearl and silver.
What are you thinking of? Go and ask him for three hundred dollars and odd? What would I tell him I want it for, pray?" Roxy's answer was delivered in a serene and level voice. "You'll tell him you's sole me to pay yo' gamblin' debts en dat you lied to me en was a villain, en dat I 'quires you to git dat money en buy me back ag'in." "Why, you've gone stark mad!
Just think of him, Jean, with a name like that when he was a little boy, in a braided jacket and those funny high waisted breeches you see in the little painted woodcuts in Cousin Roxy's childhood books." "I didn't pay much attention to what they were saying about him," said Jean, dreamily. "Is he still alive?"
The back of the house was badly damaged, but the main building stood intact, though the charred clapboards and wide vacant windows looked desolate enough. "Thank goodness the wind was from the south, and blew the flames away from the pines," said Kit, dropping into her chair, hungrily. "Doesn't it seem good to get some of Cousin Roxy's huckleberry pancakes again, girls?
Grant was flying about the kitchen, getting the loaves of brown and white bread ready for the big oven. Roxy's voice came up from the cellar singing "Bounding Billows," with a swashing and scrubbing accompaniment which suggested that she was actually enjoying a "life on the ocean wave."
Roxy's head was down, in an attitude of humility. But now the fires of her old wrongs flamed up in her breast and began to burn fiercely. She raised her head slowly, till it was well up, and at the same time her great frame unconsciously assumed an erect and masterful attitude, with all the majesty and grace of her vanished youth in it. She raised her finger and punctuated with it.
Whoever has lived long enough to find out what life is, knows how deep a debt of gratitude we owe to Adam, the first great benefactor of our race. He brought death into the world. Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar Percy Driscoll slept well the night he saved his house minions from going down the river, but no wink of sleep visited Roxy's eyes. A profound terror had taken possession of her.
There was a footstep in the long hallway, and the mother bird came in from the kitchen. The kitchen at Maple Lawn still bore the stamp of Cousin Roxy's taste. It was more a living-room than a "cookery." There was no library proper here, only the parlor, a large corner bedroom, and a dining-room which took up the width of the house except for the hall.
Maybe she would be obliged to "associate by herself" for a day or so, until they became accustomed to the sight of the "tie-apron," or until her own good nature got the better of their envy. A "slat sun-bonnet," made of calico and pasteboard, completed Roxy's costume on the summer morning of an eventful day in her life. It was drawn just as far on as could be. It hid her face completely.
Phoebus," Vesta added; "but I command him to tell all that he knows, or papa shall commit him to jail." Jack Wonnell, taking his place some steps away from Phoebus, and wiping his eyes on his sleeve, whimpering a few minutes, to Roxy's great agitation, finally told his tale.
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