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Updated: September 19, 2025
Now de Cunnel's gone, she'll hab to git somebody else to make ober." "Well, I must find out about that hill," said Mrs. Sequin, turning for a last glimpse. "Whose old place is this we are coming to?" "Dis is our place, dis is Thornwood," said Uncle Jimpson, half in pride, half in apology, as he skirted the holes in the road. "It don't look lak itself.
"It's beastly lonesome without you," he whispered. "When are you coming home?" "Heaven knows!" said Connie, putting her hands behind her for safe- keeping. "Now that somebody else has rented the College Street house, and Miss Lady has sold Thornwood, I don't know what's to become of us." "Don't you miss me a little bit?" asked Gerald, playing with the silver purse on her wrist.
He had emerged from the ruin with his finances less affected than his reputation. Each time that Donald turned at the end of the long terrace, his eyes involuntarily sought a light that gleamed far below through the bare trunks of the trees. It was the light from Thornwood that once more threw its familiar beams across the Cane Run Road and up the gentle slope of Billy-goat Hill.
She thought how strange and lonesome it must be out at Thornwood with the lights all out and the windows nailed up. The little night things were singing in the garden by this time, and the cool breezes were beginning to stir the treetops. She wondered how Mike was getting along without her, and a lump rose in her throat. She swallowed resolutely, and smiled confidently up at the stars.
"I don't know what's to become of us," said Miss Lady ruefully twisting Mike's ears. "They say unless I sell the rest of Thornwood, we won't have money enough to live on. But I won't sell another acre. I'll teach school first." Uncle Jimpson was scandalized: "Now, Miss Lady, chile, don't you git dem notions in your head. Dem's ole maid notions, you ain't no ole maid yit!
"Dis is Thornwood!" said Uncle Jimpson eagerly, pointing with his whip up a long avenue of trees; "you can't see de house 'cause dey ain't no lights in de winders. De Cunnel's paw set dem trees out de same year he bought Carline. Lord, I certainly wuz gone on dat yaller gal!
Donald had waited ten minutes for Dill before, but never with the present sense of responsibility, born of his new connection with the family. He knew that his only chance of getting him home was to humor him. How the wind whistled across the window! He wondered what Miss Lady was doing? Was she sitting by the table in the cozy living-room at Thornwood, with the lamplight on her hair?
It was midnight, and while they still searched, by the light of the moon a tall figure clad in tattered robes, who bore a thornwood staff in his hand, and had a white beard that fell down below his middle, was perceived walking to and fro about the camp.
I'm in trouble myself, to-night, Don. Will you help me?" His eyes flew to hers as he half knelt on the chair before her. "I've sold Thornwood," she went on, her lips trembling. "I can hardly speak of it, even yet. I feel like a traitor to Daddy, to all the Carseys who ever lived here, to myself! You know what the place means to me. I believe I should die if I ever saw any one else living here!
"Not a bit," said Connie saucily. "I couldn't feel sorry for anybody as good looking as you are, could you, Mr. Wicker? Where did Miss Lady go?" "She said she was going to lie down, that her head ached," said Noah. "I know what's the matter," said Connie; "she tries to keep us from seeing it, but she's all broken up over selling Thornwood." "Thornwood!" cried Donald; "she hasn't sold it?"
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