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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Now," he said quietly, "where is he?" "In my room top of the house." K. followed Bill up the stairs. He remembered the day when he had sat waiting in the parlor, and had heard Tillie's slow step coming down. And last night he himself had carried down Wilson's unconscious figure. Surely the wages of sin were wretchedness and misery. None of it paid. No one got away with it.
Tillie's story of her long friendship with Miss Margaret, which she related to Fairchilds, made him better understand much about the girl that had seemed inexplicable in view of her environment; while her wonder at and sympathetic interest in his own story of how he had come to apply for the school at New Canaan both amused and touched him.
I'll HIRE fur you, Tillie and you can just set and enjoy yourself musin', like what Doc says book-learnt people likes to do." Tillie's eyes rested on him with a softer and a kindlier light in them than she had ever shown him before; for such a magnanimous offer as this, she thought, could spring only from the fact that Absalom was really deeply in love, and she was not a little touched.
There was a wistfulness about Tillie's mouth that set him wondering. "Is he good to you?" "He's about the best man on earth. He's never said a cross word to me even at first, when I was panicky and scared at every sound." Le Moyne nodded understandingly. "I burned a lot of victuals when I first came, running off and hiding when I heard people around the place.
It was the first time in Tillie's life that a man had taken off his hat to her, and it almost palsied her tongue as she tried to ask him to come in. In reply to his inquiry as to whether he could get board here, she led him into the darkened parlor at the right of a long hall. Groping her way across the floor to the window she drew up the blind. "Just sit down," she said timidly.
Mebbe you'll see him to speak to yet up at Hershey's." "Lizzie Hershey's that wonderful tickled that the teacher's going to board at their place!" said Amanda, the second daughter, a girl of Tillie's age, as she stood in the kitchen doorway and watched Tillie put on her black hood over the white Mennonite cap.
Tillie's words came in hysterical, choking gasps; "you won't never like me no more when I tell you what's happened, Miss Margaret!" "Why, dear me, Tillie, what on earth is it?" "I didn't mean to do it, Miss Margaret! And I'll redd up for you, Fridays, still, till it's paid for a'ready, Miss Margaret, if you'll leave me, won't you, please? Oh, won't you never like me no more?"
The club had decided to put on "The Drummer Boy of Shiloh," a very ambitious undertaking because of the many supers needed and the scenic difficulties of the act which took place in Andersonville Prison. The members of the club consulted together in Tillie's absence as to who should play the part of the drummer boy.
Schwitter had a little bar and served the best liquors he could buy; but he discouraged rowdiness had been known to refuse to sell to boys under twenty-one and to men who had already overindulged. The word went about that Schwitter's was no place for a good time. Even Tillie's chicken and waffles failed against this handicap. By the middle of April the house-cleaning was done.
A fascinating little brown curl had escaped from Tillie's cap and lay on her cheek, and she raised her hand to push it back where it belonged, under its snowy Mennonite covering. "Don't!" said Fairchilds. "Let it be. It's pretty!" Tillie stared up at him, a new wonder in her eyes. "In that Mennonite cap, you look like like a Madonna!"
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