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Updated: June 13, 2025
Martha might some day let her stand in the housemaid's closet, to behold her idol issue forth in the full glory of an evening dress a thing Charlotte had read of, but never seen anything nearer to it than Miss Walby coming to tea, and her own Miss Clara in the scantiest of all white muslins. But Mrs. Martha was in an unexampled state of vixenish crossness, and snapped venomously at mild Mrs.
She dreaded the vixenish Miss Sugg less than the too complaisant manager. Somehow, she fancied that he would soon speak to her again; when, a few minutes later, he drew near, and she felt rather than saw that he was staring at her boldly, she flushed to the nape of her graceful neck. Yet he put a quite orthodox question. "Did I get your story right when you came in?" he said.
And he used to drive about the country, with the clay-coloured gig with the red wheels, and the vixenish mare with the fast pace, till he gave up business many years afterwards, and went to France with his wife; and then the old house was pulled down. 'Will you allow me to ask you, said the inquisitive old gentleman, 'what became of the chair?
"'Beautiful as an angel, and headstrong as a devil. And what's her name? Oh, yes, Claire. That is a very silly name, and I suppose she is a vixenish little idiot. However, the alliance is a sensible one. De Puysange has had it in mind for some six months, I think, but certainly I did not think he knew of my affair with Marian. Well, but he affects omniscience, he delights in every small chicane.
Finally, there was Olga Tarentino, whose blonde stateliness might prove dangerous, so long as she could keep from a betrayal of her vixenish temper. But pretty Nathalie, remembering the furious recklessness of this, laughed as she lifted her golden-framed hand-glass, and accepted, complacently, the ready flattery of smooth-tongued Antoinette.
There came a vixenish gleam into the old woman's faded eyes. "What did you come for, eh?" pursued she, sharply. "Who sent you? Not he, I know! When he's got anything to do at the wharf he comes himself." And Mrs. Higgs gave an ugly, mirthless chuckle.
Here is the greatest friend I have in the world come to see me. We haven't met for years. He's an old intimate friend of your mistress, too. Go and beg her implore her to let me bring him to her." Ludwig put money into her hand, and she made her exit with a vixenish "I'll see what I can do."
She stepped forward quickly with her crest up. Her eyes turned, and she fixed a vixenish look upon Miss Eunice. She suddenly shot her hand out from beneath her shawl and extended it at full length. Across it lay Miss Eunice's glove, very much soiled. "Was that thing ever yours?" demanded the woman, shrilly. "Y-yes," said Miss Eunice, faintly. She withdrew her hand, and looked the glove over.
The deacon's wife grew sick, and the vile, vinegar-tongued, vixenish virago said that the deacon was an old brute. The tattling, tiresome-tongued, town tale-bearer talked about a good many things that she might say, if she wanted to, and she did say that the deacon and his wife did not get on like angels. But the wee, wiry, weird Widow Wiggins watched wearily by the bedside of the sick Mrs.
The girl was the most stubborn, unreasonable, vixenish little puss I ever saw. I didn't want her old Lowestoft if she didn't want to sell it! But to practically invite me there, and then treat me like that!" scolded the collector, his face growing red with anger. "Still, I was sorry for the poor little old lady. I wish, somehow, she could have that hundred dollars!"
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