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Updated: May 25, 2025
She rushed away to the house in her headlong style; met Hester in one of the corridors; stopped her to exclaim, "Cheer up, Hetty, the incubus is leaving by the first train in the morning," and then finding Pinkerton, despatched her for orders to Mrs. Bernard Temple. A few moments later, Antonia had forced her way into Susy's presence. "Mother and I leave to-morrow," she said.
Ruthie went up to her and shook hands at once. "I suppose it is Susy's aunt Madge," said she. "I am delighted to see you, for Susy says you love little girls, and know lots of games."
Dick took Susy's advice, bekase, after all, the undacent drop was in him? or he'd never have brought the bottle out of the house at all; but, faith he riz up, put the whiskey in his pocket, and went home with a face on him as black as my hat with venom.
"My bird is dead, said Susy P., My bird is dead; O, deary me! He sang so sweet, te whee, te whee; He sings no more; O, deary me! Go hang his cage up in the tree, That cage I care no more to see. My bird is dead, cried Susy P." These provoking words Percy drawled out in a sing-song voice. It was too much. Susy's eyes flashed through her tears.
In a few years, of course, they'll have to even if I don't grow much," she added judiciously. She put out her hand and touched the string of pearls about Susy's throat. "They're small, but they're very good. I suppose you don't take the others when you travel?" "The others? Bless you! I haven't any others and never shall have, probably." "No other pearls?" "No other jewels at all."
Hester had sent a hurried note to Molly apprizing her of Susy's arrival, and begging of her, if she valued her peace of mind, not to come near the Grange on this dreadful Sunday. It passed somehow. Poor Hester always, during the remainder of her life, looked back upon it as a day of hopeless worry and confusion of brain. Everyone seemed to be playing the game of cross-purposes with everyone else.
This remark, with the additional fact that he hailed from India, attracted my attention also Susy's. She went to her room and brought his card from its place in the frame of her mirror, and the Quarry Farm visitor stood identified. A theatrical production of "The Prince and the Pauper," dramatized by Mrs. A. S. Richardson, was one of the events of this period.
"My good Mrs. Shotwell," said Mrs. Piper, trying to "make conversation," "I think I have got something in my eye: will you please tell me how it looks?" "O," said Prudy, peeping into it, "your eye looks very well, ma'am; don't you 'xcuse it; it looks well enough for me." "Ahem!" said Mrs. Piper, laughing, and settling her head-dress, which was Susy's red scarf: "are your feet warm, Mrs. Shotwell?"
But Nick had objected that Paris, at that time of year, would be swarming with acquaintances who would hunt them down at all hours; and Susy's own experience had led her to remark that there was nothing the very rich enjoyed more than taking pot-luck with the very poor. These thoughts were in her mind as she drove up to Mrs.
He meant, on his return to Rome, to ask her to marry him; and he knew that she knew it. Indeed, if he had not spoken before leaving it was with no idea of evading his fate, or keeping her longer in suspense, but simply because of the strange apathy that had fallen on him since he had received Susy's letter.
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