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Updated: June 2, 2025
Then the favors were distributed; white skirts wavered across the floor like thistle-down on summer air; men rose from their seats and fresh couples filled the shining parquet. Miss Talcott, after taking from the basket a Legion of Honor in red enamel, surveyed the room for a moment; then she made her way through the dancers and held out the favor to Woburn.
He was wondering how to lead her to completer avowal when she added forlornly, "You see there's nothing else to do." Woburn took a turn in the room. It was certainly a narrower strait than he had foreseen, and he hardly knew how to answer; but the first flow of confession had eased her, and she went on without farther persuasion.
"Tea is ready, miss," said a trim maid-servant at the door of the bedroom where the two girls were talking, and Ruth followed her cousin downstairs to the large cheerful room she had entered upon her arrival. Mrs. Woburn had already taken her seat behind the urn, and the two boys who were sitting beside her rose to meet their cousin.
The boys took the elevated from the South station to the North station, where they found they could catch a train to Woburn, the town where Frank's father lived, in ten minutes. It was only a little more than ten miles from Boston to Woburn and the trip was made quickly. As they alighted from the train, Frank let his eyes rove over the familiar landmarks, which he had not seen for three years.
Woburn had grown to love her niece as a daughter. She had been for some time the peace-making element of the household, and a great favourite with Rupert, who was growing a fine sturdy boy. Ernest was sorry to lose her, though, as usual, he was not profuse in his expressions of regret. The shy, awkward boy was developing into a clever but somewhat reserved young man.
"My dear child, what is the matter?" cried Mrs. Woburn, dropping her work in her amazement. "I think that if you don't like me as I am, I had better go home," she repeated. "What do you mean?" asked her aunt, still more perplexed; while Ernest looked up from his book and inquired, "Has Julia been annoying her?" "No," said Ruth; "but, oh, auntie!
Near the intersection of Woburn Street is a crude stone cannon which marks the place where Lord Percy planted a field pine pointing in the direction of the Green to check the advancing patriots and cover the retreat of the Regulars.
In another minute Ruth had followed her aunt into a large cheerful sitting-room, with two bay-windows overlooking the beach and sea. "Oh! mamma, what a shame of you to go without me!" cried a voice from the window where a young girl was standing. "You were so late, dear," said Mrs. Woburn gently. "Here is your cousin; take her to her room; I am sure she must be tired after her long journey."
But there was something familiar in the tone of her voice, and when she called a cab, gave instructions about the luggage, and took her seat beside her niece, Ruth was quite at ease and felt that she was going to be happy. "You will see Julia very soon," said Mrs. Woburn, "but this is our first day at the sea-side, and she was out when I started.
Their title to these dues is of considerably longer standing than that of his Grace the Duke of Bedford to Woburn Abbey, and those of so many lay impropriators of church property. If royal charters and Acts of Parliament are of no greater value than waste paper, there is of course nothing more to be said on the subject. There is nothing, then, to oppose as a barrier to any act of spoliation.
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