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Updated: July 26, 2025
Will you just wait a minute, please?" she added, looking up into the face of her favorite governess. "I want you to take these letters as you are here, and so save my ringing for a servant. Get Miss Edgeworth to stamp them all, and put them into their envelopes, and send them off without fail by next post." A pile of letters was placed in Miss Symes's hands. She went away at once; and Mrs.
When she regained Miss Symes's room she found that lady already there. She was making her toilet. "Why, Fanny," she said, "what have you been doing? You haven't, surely, been to your own room! Did Sister Helen let you in?" "She didn't want to; but I required some some handkerchiefs and things of that sort," said Fanny. "Well, you haven't brought any handkerchiefs," said Miss Symes.
His florid face turned a deeper red, his eyes sparkled as the winged imagination of the natural promoter began to play. It was of the dirigible kind, Symes's imagination, he could steer it in any direction. It could rise to any heights. It now shot upward and he saw himself at the head of a project which would make his name a household word throughout the State.
His eyes were lowered so he did not see the look which made Symes's face radiant for an instant, but he may have imagined it was there, for his lips curved in ever so faint a smile. "It has been a p-pleasure to meet you, Mr. Symes." Prescott extended a gray suede hand. "I do not feel that the hour has been wasted, since I have learned so m-much."
Symes's private bank account had grown to quite a respectable sum since that memorable morning when he had received word that his balance was in the red. If he was given a confidential discount upon machinery for which he charged the company full price, was he not entitled to the difference?
Harpe spoke lightly and there was a smile upon her straight lips, but earnestness, a kind of warning, was in her eyes. A clatter of tinware at the kitchen window attracted Symes's attention as he came from the bedroom. "What's the matter, grandmother?" he asked in the teasing tone he sometimes used in speaking to her. "Not the cooking sherry, I hope." She did not smile at his badinage.
"Oh, not cheerful, poor Fanny! we can none of us be that with Betty in such great danger; but you can at least be busy, you can at least help others." "Thank you," replied Fanny; "self comes first now and then, and it does on the present occasion;" and Fanny marched to Miss Symes's room.
"You must lie down and try to sleep, Betty. I hope you will be quite well by dinner-time. Don't stir till I come for you, dear." "Oh, but I will!" said Betty, raising her head and fixing her bright, almost feverish eyes on Miss Symes's face. "What do you mean, dear? I have desired you to stay quiet." "And I cannot obey," replied Betty. "Please, Miss Symes, don't be angry.
Rich men and rich men's sons had a way of amusing themselves with the society of their inferiors where they were unknown, was her disdainful explanation to herself, but it piqued and irritated her even while it furnished the material for her sly innuendoes, for the insidious attacks which were fast completing what Andy P. Symes's social dictatorship had begun. With her mounting arrogance Dr.
Crouching, with her head bent, she ran through the alley, panting, wild-eyed in her exaggerated fear. A big band of bleating sheep on the way to the loading pens at the station blocked her way where she would have crossed the street to Symes's house. She swore in a frenzy of impatience as she waited for them to pass in the cloud of choking dust raised by their tiny, pointed hoofs.
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