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Some years after his nephew's fruitless journey to Australia Richard Smallwood died; and though the old man had been nothing but a burden during the last few years of his life, Christopher missed him sorely when he was gone. It was something even to have a childish old man to love him, and smile at his coming; now there was nobody belonging to him, and he was utterly alone.
Was she ill? had she any pain? had any one been unkind to her? No? What was the matter then? Nothing; she was just miserable! "Beth, don't be so silly," Miss Smallwood remonstrated. "A great girl like you, crying for nothing! It is positively childish." The other girls stole glances at her and looked grave.
"What right have you to talk of liberty and of freedom, if you will not fight for it? Why are you not with Howard, Gist, Smallwood, and the other heroes who are making the name of the Maryland Line ring through the army?" he would ask, and they would turn away. The burly form and dark, swarthy face of the Chairman dominated the committee. As we entered and stood before him his dark eyes flashed.
"It is a part of your education, Beth," Miss Smallwood answered precisely. "I know," Beth grumbled, "but couldn't one read about it, and get on a little quicker? I want to know what he did when he got here." "Why, my dear child, how can you be so stupid? You have just said he fought the battle of Hastings." "Yes, but what did the battle of Hastings do?"
It was her mother's system exactly, and Beth was disappointed, having hoped for something different These pillules of knowledge only exasperated her; she wanted enough to enable her to grasp the whole situation. "What is the use of learning these little bits by heart about William the Conqueror and the battle of Hastings, and all that, Miss Smallwood?" she exclaimed one day.
With a gesture of horrified protest, Nancy Smallwood sat back in her chair. "My dear Derek," she murmured. . . . "Far, far better than you and I do. I always mash my bread sauce up with the vegetables if no one's looking, and I'm certain he never would. He's most respectable. . . ." "My God!" said Vane, "as bad as that! I was hoping he'd eat peas with his knife."
The only one reluctant to go was Deacon Amos Smallwood, who, coming to the plantation to seek employment for his son, had not been denied of his desire to join the assemblage of his neighbors. Last to move toward the door, he stopped in front of Sanders, stretched his five feet three inches of stature on tiptoe, and shook a withered fist in the boss' firmly set, determined face.
Public opinion, which a military chief finds too much difficulty in resisting, and the opinion of Congress, required a battle; but, on a temperate consideration of circumstances, Washington came to the wise decision of avoiding one for the present. His reasons for this decision were conclusive. Wayne and Smallwood had not yet joined the army.
Smallwood, which I am glad to see, though I am afraid it will do me hurt. 9th. To Whitehall, and thence to the Rhenish wine-house, where I met Mons. Eschar and there took leave of him, he being to go this night to the Downs towards Portugall, and so spent all the morning.
She had run downstairs at full speed in order to enter the dining-room before the dishes, completing her toilet as she fled; and she had only beaten the bacon by a neck. "Richard Smallwood has had a paralytic stroke. Christopher sent up word the first thing this morning." "Oh! I am so sorry. Mr. Smallwood is such a dear old man, and used to be so kind to Christopher and me when we were little."
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