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Updated: June 3, 2025
"What is the little girl's name, mammy?" asked Lizzie. Having finished her supper, she was standing at her mother's side, staring with wide eyes at Anne and shyly rolling a corner of her apron in her fingers. "Sh-sh-sh," whispered Mrs. Collins. "'Tain't perlite to ask questions. You make her cry again. But, Peter, I'm worried to think maybe her folks is missed her and lookin' for her.
Jane suggested dragging the canal, but was silenced by an indignant "sh-sh-sh," accompanied by apprehensive and sympathetic glances at the bereaved parents. She was displaced from the focus of attention by the appearance of the two policemen who had been sent to the chalet. Smilash was between them, apparently a prisoner.
A cry broke from her as she saw the marks had become almost eliminated by something that had dragged, something heavy. Those long-drawn lines were finger-prints, where a hand had dragged in its vain endeavor to grasp at something. A sickening image came persistently before her eyes—Peter’s upturned face, blood-smeared and disfigured. "Sh-sh-sh!"
I know it's got something to do with the Virgin Mary." Aunt Charlotte said, "Sh-sh-sh! You mustn't say that. Nice little girls don't think about those things." Her tilted eyes had turned down and her mouth had stopped smiling. So you knew that being born was not frightening. It had something to do with the things you didn't talk about. And ye how could it? There was the Virgin Mary.
This would have been an admirable proof of repentance if their heels had not persisted in coming down on the bare boards in very loud clicks at very short intervals. And every click was greeted by a reproving chorus of "Sh-sh-sh!" The instant they reached the hall above, pandemonium broke loose.
"O, Letty, the funniest thing " shouted Laura, bursting into the kitchen. "Wait, let me tell," interrupted Jamie. "Why, Letty, somebody's hung " "Somebody hung," exclaimed Letty, in horror. "Why, Laura Mason, how dare you say that was funny?" "I didn't " began Laura, indignantly, but here Mrs. Mason interfered with a "Sh-sh-sh, children, mercy, goodness, you nearly drive me wild. Here.
"Would you believe it," she snickered, "she's wearing red! With that hair! She asked me if I didn't think she looked too pale. I wanted to tell her that if she had any more colour, with that dress, they'd be likely to use the chemical sprinklers on her when she struck the Alley." "Sh-sh-sh!" breathed Sadie in warning.
He threw his half-smoked cigar into the blackness beyond the veranda rail and leaned close to her white throat, framed in the soft filmy lace of her gown. "Why are you so silent?" he asked. "Is it because of to-morrow?" "Sh-sh-sh! Do be careful," she cautioned him; "someone might hear you." "We are quite alone, you and I," he returned curtly. "You know he is with Holcomb and Margaret is in bed."
We reached the gate. Men in Indian masks and costumes gathered around us. "Order! Sh-sh-sh," was the loud command of the man beside me in whom I recognized or thought that I did the voice of Josiah Curtis. "What has happened?" "One o' them tried to serve a writ an' we have tarred an' feathered him."
Every now and then he said gently "Sh-sh-sh" when he thought that her confession was penetrating the further recesses of Charing Cross.... "Oh, Lawrence, I feel so bad I feel so wicked I never should have thought it of myself. I didn't feel wicked at first, but I did afterwards. Oh, Lawrence, tell me what I'm to do."
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