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Updated: May 20, 2025
When Peace, the eldest, was mad, she frequently kicked the churn out of the kitchen door, cream and all, and that lost her a husband. Love, the second, married, and according to local tradition once kicked her husband all the way up Foolscap Hill with a dried cod-fish. Charity, the third, married too, for the Stovers of Scarboro were handsome girls, but she got a fit mate in her spouse.
Jerry held up at the lumber camp, for he wished to ask a few questions of the cook, who was a man he happened to know in a small way, though never particularly fancying Jock Stovers. The fellow stared at seeing a quartette of elegant motor-cycles come dashing up to the loggers' winter quarters. "Hello! Jock.
Into the building he darted, closed the door behind him, and collapsed upon a heap of fish nets. At three-thirty that afternoon, Mr. Atkins, apparently quite recovered, was sitting in the kitchen rocker, reading a last week's newspaper, one of a number procured on his most recent trip to the village. The Stovers and their guest had departed. Their buggy was out of sight beyond the dunes.
It was only to strangers that he aired his convictions on the training of "womenfolks," though for that matter he might safely have done it even at home; for everybody in Limington knew that it would always have been too late to begin with the Widder Bixby, since, like all the Stovers of Scarboro, she had been born with the bit in her teeth.
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