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Updated: June 21, 2025
"There's something a little about it in Job, and something in the Psalms: but not a great deal." "And we got it from them Egyptian d " "I don't say that," Westover interposed. "But they had it before we had. As we imagine it, we got it though Christianity." Jombateeste, who had taken his pipe out of his mouth in a controversial manner, put it back again.
He wore the white apron and white cap of his calling, but Westover heard him speak Yankee through his nose to one of the stablemen as they exchanged hilarities across the space between the basement and the barn-door. "Yes," Mrs. Durgin admitted, "he's an American; and he learnt his trade at one of the best hotels in Portland. He's pretty headstrong, but I guess he does what he's told in the end.
She looked up at him in a daze, and Westover heard the Durgin boy saying: "She lives right there in that little wood-colored house at the other end of the lane. There ain't no call to go home with her." Westover turned and saw the boy kneeling at the edge of a clump of bushes, where he must have struck; he was rubbing, with a tuft of grass, at the dirt ground into the knees of his trousers.
"There ain't a livin' for us on the farm any more, and we got to do somethin'. If there was anything else I could do! But I've thought it out and thought it out, and I guess there ain't anything I can do but take boarders if I can get them." "I should think you'd find it rather pleasant on some accounts. Your boarders would be company for you," said Westover.
Toward the end of the week, while his hurts were still too evident to allow him to go out-of-doors before dark, he had a note from Westover asking him to come in at once to see him. "Your brother Jackson," Westover wrote, "reached Boston by the New York train this morning, and is with me here.
But the letter smote her with new terror. "Oh, if you only knew, my dear, dear chicks, what it will be to escape this kindly imprisonment what it will mean to see you all again! I can hardly wait to come up the dear old familiar path to 24 Westover Street and hug you all I'll hug Ken, even if he hates it, and Kirk, my most precious baby!
When Whitwell came back from the post-office, where he said he would only be gone a minute, he did not rejoin Westover and Cynthia in the parlor. The parlor door was shut; he had risked his fate, and they were talking it over. Cynthia was not sure; she was sure of nothing but that there was no one in the world she cared for so much; but she was not sure that was enough.
Doubtless, the lavish hospitality of the master of Westover, who attended this church, caused quite a Sunday pilgrimage to that mansion of his that we had glimpsed through the trees as Gadabout entered Herring Creek. Rowing down the creek toward the houseboat, we stopped here and there to gather reeds and holly.
"And now, Cynthy's sure to be here." "Yes, she will be here," said Westover, not so cheerfully. Jackson seemed to find the opening he was seeking, in Westover's tone. "What do you think of gettin' married, anyway, Mr. Westover?" he asked. "We haven't either of us thought so well of it as to try it, Jackson," said the painter, jocosely. "Think it's a kind of chance?" "It's a chance."
"I will say effective, too, if you insist," said Westover. "But at the same time you're the most beautiful person here." "How lovely of you, even if you don't mean it," she sighed. "If girls could have more of those things said to them, they would be better, don't you think? Or at least feel better." Westover laughed.
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