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Updated: June 17, 2025
Sophronia and he stepped back into the sitting room and looked at each other, the same thought expressed in the face of each. Neither spoke for a moment, then Captain Hiram said: "Now don't you worry, Sophrony. The Doctor ain't home, but I'm goin' out to to telegraph him, or somethin'. Keep a stiff upper lip. It'll be all right. God couldn't go back on you and me that way. He just couldn't.
The money pledged was as promptly paid, and work upon the building was commenced at once, and when September arrived it stood ready to receive the scholars, a better schoolhouse than the average country village could boast. One of the first to inspect it was Mrs. Sophrony Hodgkins. It would have made her very unhappy to have had its good points described to her and have been unable to say,
Give me a round trip ticket, will you, Sol?" The depot master retired to the office, returning with the desired ticket. Captain Hiram counted out the price from a confused mass of coppers and silver, emptied into his hand from a blackened leather purse, tied with a string. "How's Sophrony?" asked the depot master. "Pretty smart, I hope." "Yup, she's smart.
Captain Hiram, always ready to talk of the wonderful baby, told the depot master of the youngster's latest achievement, which was to get the cover off the butter firkin in the pantry and cover himself with butter from head to heel. "Ho, ho, ho!" he roared, delightedly, "when Sophrony caught him at it, what do you s'pose he said?
Some of the members are coming to tea; Miss Seneth Jellatt, and she that was Clarissa Tripp, Snow now, and Miss Sophrony G. Dexter, and more besides." I put my mice in a basket, and begged Temperance to allow me to finish wiping the china; she consented, adjuring me not to let it fall. "Mis Morgeson would die if any of it should be broken." I adored it, too.
You take it in the middle of the night, with the shutters rattling and the old joists a-creaking and Jonadab snoring like a chap sawing hollow logs, and if it wan't joy then my name ain't Barzilla Wingate. I don't wonder Aunt Sophrony died. I'd have died 'long afore she did if I knew I was checked plumb through to perdition. There'd be some company where I was going, anyhow.
"It don't matter. 'Twas over her you and Sophrony quarreled. You admit it." "I certainly do not admit that I quarreled with Mrs. Watkins," he said firmly. "She evidently took offense at what I said to her, and she left. Now she cannot come back. Under no circumstances would I consider it."
What I am tellin' you is, that here's your chance to get a housekeeper that'll amount to something." "Oh! Ah! I see!" exclaimed Mr. Day in staccato fashion, and evidently very much relieved. "Mrs. Watkins is looking for a position?" "Well, she ought to be. But it does take a stick of dynamite to get her goin', seems to me. Speak up, Sophrony!" "Why, I'm pleased to meet you, Mr.
"I do not see why you should," Daddy replied rapidly. "Yet I believe you meant well, and I thank you." "'Meant well'?" sniffed the visitor. "I don't know what that's got to do with it. I gave you both both Sophrony and you the chance of your lives. And neither of you appreciate it. I wash my hands of you . Janice pushed open the door quietly and stepped in, closing it after her.
Then Sophrony Hodgkins would meander down the lane, and if fortune favored her, would find at the next farm-house its mistress possibly at the well or sunning her milk pans in a corner of the door-yard. Immediately she would hail her with joy and proceed to repeat her own stock of news with the addition of a few particulars gleaned from the first friend.
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