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Updated: June 27, 2025
Both Tillbury girls stood well in their classes; and they were liked by all the instructors even by Professor Krenner, who some of the girls declared wickedly was the school's "self-starter, Lakeview Hall being altogether too modern to have a crank." In association with their fellow pupils, Nan and Bess had never any real difficulty, save with Linda Riggs and her clique.
There is no prospect of other work for him in Tillbury, he says, and," Nan continued desperately, "how do you suppose I can go to a fancy boarding school under these circumstances?" "Why " For once Elizabeth was momentarily silenced. Suddenly her face brightened. "I tell you!" she exclaimed. "I'll speak to my father about it.
It was an entirely different atmosphere up here in the Big Woods from Tillbury, or even Chicago. The train creaked to a stop. They leaped down upon the snowy platform. Only a plain station, big freight house, and a company of roughly dressed men to meet them. Behind the station a number of sleighs and sledges stood, their impatient horses shaking the innumerable bells they wore.
Her friend thought she would better not tell Bess just then that the prospect was that she, with her father and mother, would have to leave Tillbury long before the autumn. Mr. Sherwood was trying to obtain a situation in Chicago, in a machine shop. He had no hope of getting another foreman's position. Nothing had been heard from Mr. Adair MacKenzie, of Memphis. Mrs.
Sherwood was at the station to meet the train when it finally steamed into Tillbury. Owneyville, which the girls knew to be Mr. Bulson's home town, was a station beyond Tillbury, and a much smaller town. The fat man had to change cars, so it was not surprising that he stepped down upon the Tillbury platform just as Nan ran into her father's arms. "Oh, Papa Sherwood!" Nan almost sobbed.
"I fancy you won't hear anything unpleasant about the snake," he said. "Where do you live, Nancy Sherwood?" "I live at Tillbury," Nan said. "But I sha'n't be home much this vacation." "Where will you be, then, about the first of the year?" "I'll tell you," Bess cried briskly, and she gave Mr. Carter Mr. Mason's address in Chicago. The conductor wrote it down carefully in his notebook.
Imagination was continually weaving pictures in her mind of what might happen if the vista of new fortunes that had opened before the little family in the Amity Street cottage really came true. Papa Sherwood's first reports on the matter of the Scotch legacy were not inspiring. "Mr. Bludsoe says we'd better go slow," he said seriously. Mr. Bludsoe was a lawyer of high repute in Tillbury.
Papa Sherwood called it, with that funny little quirk in the corner of his mouth, "a dwelling in amity, more precious than jewels or fine gold." And it was just that. Nan had had experience enough in the houses of her school friends to know that none of them were homes like her own. All was amity, all was harmony, in the little shingled cottage on this short by-street of Tillbury.
Linking arms a little later, when the supper gong sounded, the two friends from Tillbury sought the pleasant dining-room where the whole school "primes" as well as the four upper divisions ate at long tables, with an instructor in charge of each division. But discipline was relaxed to-night, as it was always at such times. Even Mrs.
I didn't really want to come, but seeing as it was for you, Pearl, I came." Camilla was not listening to him at all. Pearl took the letter wonderingly. "Read it Camilla," she said, handing it to her friend. Camilla broke the seal and read it. It was from Alfred Austin Wemyss, Rector of St. Agnes, Tillbury Road, County of Kent, England.
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