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Updated: June 5, 2025
With the news of Essie Tisdale's altered position and Mrs. Terriberry missed no opportunity to convey the impression that Kincaid's resources were unlimited the tide turned and the buffalo berry jelly, the Lady Baltimore cake, baked beans and Mrs. Parrott's tinned lobster salad, were the straws which in Crowheart always showed which way the wind was blowing.
Although the most conspicuous thing about these early callers was the parcels they carried, Mrs. Terriberry chose to ignore them. "Why, how do you do, Mrs. Parrott, and Miss Starr, too. It's a lovely day to be out, isn't it?" Her voice was distinctly patronizing and she extended a languid hand to Mrs. Jackson. "And usin' your brain like you do, Mrs.
But, on the whole, isn't it rather a high price to pay for well, for a biscuit-shooter's friendship? Such people really don't count, you know." Mrs. Terriberry who had once shot biscuits in a "Harvey's Eating House" murmured meekly "Of course not."
He moved among them with a savoir-faire which was new to Crowheart, talking easily and with flattering deference to this neglected lady and that, agreeable to a point which left them animated and coquettish. He danced with Mrs. Terriberry, he escorted Mrs. Tutts to the punch bowl, he threw Mrs.
Harpe observed that he seemed to forget her. Essie Tisdale passed her without a glance, but Mrs. Terriberry came behind with the breakfast of fried potatoes and the thin, fried beefsteak on the platter which served also as a plate, from which menu the Terriberry House never deviated by so much as a mutton chop. "I'm sorry you and Essie fell out," said Mrs.
"Hank" Terriberry, in whose competent charge Symes had placed this portion of the wedding entertainment, realizing that, at best, pouring from a bottle and drinking from a glass is a slow and tedious process, to facilitate matters had provided two large, bright, new dish-pans which he filled with wine, also a plentiful supply of bright, new, tin dippers.
Terriberry gallantly, protruding his upper lip over the edge of his glass something in the manner of a horse gathering in the last oat in his box. Dr. Harpe raised her glass to arms' length and cried exultantly "To my Supreme Moment!" Mr. Terriberry, who had closed his eyes while the cooling beverage flowed down his throat, opened them again. "Huh?"
Terriberry suffered from pyorrhea, and the row of upper teeth which he now displayed in a genial grin looked like a garden-rake, due to his shrinking gums. "I'm a Presbyterian, Doc, but I don't work at it. Why?" "Let's get together and build a church. I'll go around with a subscription paper myself and raise the money. I feel lost without a church, I honestly do. It's downright heathenish."
The long shadows of the afternoon's sun lay in the backyard of the Terriberry House when Essie sat down in the doorway to rest before her evening's work began. The girl's sad face rested in the palm of her hand and her shoulders drooped wearily as Mrs. Abe Tutts in her blue flannel yachting cap came down the road beside her friend Mrs.
Pleased but bewildered, Mrs. Terriberry read of herself as "queenly in gray satin and diamonds," being unable to place the diamonds until she recalled the rhinestone comb in her back hair which sparkled with the doubtful brilliancy of a row of alum cubes. Mrs.
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