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Updated: May 27, 2025
If you don't believe that true religion and good cooking go hand in hand, wait a year and then see what sort of a husband you will have." Mrs. Tolbridge felt that she ought to resent this speech, that she ought to be, at least, a little angry; but when she was a small girl, Miss Panney was an old woman who sometimes used to scold her.
She did not wish to be over-inquisitive, but she intended, in some quiet way, to find out whether or not the letter about which she had spoken so strongly had been written. If it had not, she would take time to make up her mind what she should do. Kitty Tolbridge and she had scolded each other often enough, and had had many differences, but they had never yet seriously quarrelled.
Haverley sets such an upper-toned example to his fellow young men. "I spoke of that to Dr. Tolbridge once.
"Its eye does look as if it were dead," she exclaimed. "What a pity!" "Oh, you can't tell by that eye," said Miriam, over whose cheeks a few tears were now running. "Dr. Tolbridge says it has infantile ophthalmia in that eye, but that as soon as it gets strong enough, he can cure it. We must turn up its other eye."
Miss Panney rose from her chair, and gazed earnestly at Mrs. Tolbridge. "What cook?" she asked, in her deepest tones. "Jane La Fleur," was the reply; "the woman you urged me to write to. I sent the letter that afternoon. Yesterday she came to see me, and I engaged her. And while we were at breakfast this morning, she arrived with her boxes, and went to work." "And she cooked that meal?
"The doctor tells me," said that good lady, "that you take great interest in those young people at Cobhurst." "Indeed I do," said Miss Panney, sitting up as straight in her easy chair as if it had been a wooden bench with no back; "I have been thinking about him all the morning. He ought to be married." Mrs. Tolbridge laughed.
"That depends on circumstances," said Miss Panney, turning over the pages of a large scrap-book. "And shoes," continued Mrs. Tolbridge, laughing again. "Shoes," cried Miss Panney, pushing out one foot, and looking at it. "Well, truly, that was an oversight; but here is the recipe;" and without the aid of spectacles, she began to read.
One consisted of the lotions and medicines prescribed for her by Dr. Tolbridge, and the other of those she herself, in the course of many years, had ordered or compounded, not only for her own use, but for that of others.
And then she ran out to catch the doctor, and talk to him about Cicely. "Your sister is a child yet," remarked Mrs. Tolbridge, with a smile. "Indeed she is," said Ralph; "and she longs for what she never had old family servants, household ties, and all that sort of thing. And I believe she would prefer a good old Southern mammy to a fine young lover." "Of course she would," said Mrs. Tolbridge.
"Doctor," interrupted Miss Dora, raising her forefinger, "you were just on the point of saying, 'and has shed its milk mind. Now I am going away before you make me angry again." When his patient had gone, Dr. Tolbridge put another log on the fire, shook up the cushions of the sofa, and lay down to continue his nap.
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