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Updated: June 17, 2025
"It used to be a joke against me," explained Miss Sellars, "heven when I was quite a child. I never could tolerate anything low. Why, one day when I was only seven years old, what do you think happened?" I confessed my inability to guess. "Well, I'll tell you," said Miss Sellars; "it'll just show you. Uncle Joseph that was father's uncle, you understand?"
I felt a presentiment, I confided to her, that on this particular evening I should not shine to advantage. "Oh, you mustn't be so shy," said Miss Sellars. "I don't like shy fellows not too shy. That's silly."
Reminded of the time by the maternal Sellars, he got in his first sensible remark by observing that with such questions, he took it, the present company was not particularly interested, and directed himself to the main argument. To his, Uncle Gutton's, foresight, wisdom and instinctive understanding of humanity, Mr. Clapper, it appeared, owed his present happiness.
Moved by a sudden hot haste that seized me, I dressed myself with trembling hands; I appeared to be anxious to act without giving myself time for thought. Complete, with a colour in my cheeks unusual to them, and a burning in my eyes, I descended and knocked with a nervous hand at the door of the second floor back. "Who's that?" came in answer Miss Sellars' sharp tones. "It is I Paul."
I went right up the stairs and there was no one there and not a sound. The door was shut fast enough then, for I tried it. It couldn't have been Mr. Gray or Mr. Sellars, for they're away week ending, and Mr. Cassavetti came in before twelve. I met him on the stairs as I was turning the lights down." "Perhaps he went out again to post," I suggested. "Good night, Jenkins." "Good night, sir.
I wished at the time I could have followed his prescription. The maternal Sellars waddled after us into the passage, which she completely blocked. She told me she was delight-ted to have met me, and that she was always at home on Sundays. I said I would remember it, and thanked her warmly for a pleasant evening, at Miss Sellars' request calling her Ma.
I gathered his calling to have been, chiefly, "three shies a penny." Mrs. Sellars was now, however, happily dead; and if no other good thing had come out of the catastrophe, it had determined Miss Sellars to take warning by her mother's error and avoid connection with the lowly born. She it was who, with my help, would lift the family back again to its proper position in society.
"Damned sight sadder," commented Uncle Gutton, "when she don't go off, but hangs on at home year after year and expects you to keep her." I credit Uncle Gutton with intending this as an aside for the exclusive benefit of the maternal Sellars; but his voice was not of the timbre that lends itself to secrecy. One of the bridesmaids, a plain, elderly girl, bending over her plate, flushed scarlet.
Curtis had something pleasant to tell me about the misfortunes of my enemies, so I listened attentively. It was a tale of western love, and its course was no smoother in Illinois than in any less enlightened country of old Europe. Miss Priscilla reckoned she could hoe her own row. She and Mr. Sellars conducted the Common School at Dresden with great success and harmony.
After breakfast Bert came into the shed, and watched his father as he mended an old harness. "What sort of boy is that Ned Sellars?" inquired his father at length. Bert started. "I don't know. I think he's a pretty good boy. Why?" "I passed the house this morning. Some one was getting a terrible flogging, and I think it must have been Ned." "What for? Do you know?" "Yes.
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