Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 29, 2025
Above it all was "my lady" who was always beautiful and stately and, of course, devoted to Mrs. Trussit.
Trussit had changed not at all; his grandfather the same old creature of grey hairs and cushions and rugs, his father broad and square and white in the face with his black hair carefully brushed, his aunt with her mittens and trembling hands and silly voice, Mrs.
Trussit, like David Copperfield?"... to his meeting of her again, he still rather short-legged but no longer caring over much for mixed biscuits, in his sixteenth year, with Dawson's over and done with "No, Mrs.
Then the door was opened and his aunt was there. "You must come at once ... she wants you." The doctor, his father, and Mrs. Trussit were there in the room, but he was only conscious of the great white bed with the candles about it and the white vases, like eyes, watching him. As he entered the room there was a faint cry, "Peter."
There was a little room, the housekeeper's room, to which he crept when he thought that it was safe to do so. She was a different Mrs. Trussit within the boundary of her kingdom a very cosy kingdom with pink wall-paper, a dark red sofa, a canary in a cage, and a fire very lively in the grate.
There were always days of silence after a beating, and that was more markedly the case now when it was a week of holidays and no Parlow to go to. Peter did not mind the silence it was perhaps safer and so long as he was home by six o'clock he could spend the day where he pleased. He asked Mrs. Trussit about the carol-singers.
Stephen, Zachary, Moses, Dicky, Mrs. Trussit, old Curtis, even Aunt Jessie all these people had knowledge, of course, but they would not give it you they would not talk to you as though they were at your stage of the journey, they could not exchange opinions with you, they could not share in your wild surmises, they could not sympathise with your hatred of addition, multiplication, and subtraction.
And yet this was all morbidity and Peter, square, broad-shouldered, had no scrap of morbidity in his clean body. He did not await the future with the shaking candle of the suddenly awakened coward, but rather with the planted feet and the bared teeth of the bull-dog.... He watched the faces of his father, his aunt and Mrs. Trussit.
The sight of it roused no emotion in Peter that was not his mother. The two aunts, Uncle Jeremy and his father rode in the first carriage; Peter and Mrs. Trussit in the second. Mrs. Trussit's bonnet and black silk dress were very fine and she wept bitterly throughout the journey. Peter only dismally wished that he could arrange his knees so that they would not rub against her black silk.
Trussit with her black silk gown and stout prosperous face Oh! they were all there, but he fancied and this might easily be imagination that they, like the portraits of the old Westcotts about the walls, watched him, as he grew, knowing that ever, as the months passed, the day came nearer when father and son must come to terms.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking