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How on earth does a woman who can write a letter like Mrs. Yellett stand it? And where on the map of North America is Lost Trail?" "Land sakes!" regretted the fat lady, "but I do wish I had a piece of that ’boy’s favorite’ cake that I had for my lunch the day we left town. I just ate and ate it ’cause I hadn’t another thing to do.
"Your remarks shore remind me of a sayin’ that ’the discomfort of havin’ to swallow other folks’ dust causes a heap of anxiety over their reckless driving.’" Mrs. Yellett flicked her riding-boot with her whip. Her voice dropped a couple of tones, her accent became one of honeyed sweetness.
They may seem a trifle novel, but, for that matter, so are my pupils," began Mary, determining to present the same front to Judith that she had to Mrs. Yellett. But Judith was not to be put off. She looked into Mary’s eyes and did not relax her gaze until she was rewarded with an answering twinkle.
Yellett; "it be a hard blow to me to know that my sons are lackings; there’s mothers I know as would give vent to their disapp’inted ambition in ways I’d consider crool to the absent-minded. Now hearken, the whole outfit of you!
Two other male Brobdingnags came from some sequestered spot in the landscape and joined Ben—Mary recognized two more pupils. Mrs. Yellett then unrolled the pillow constructed the night previous of such garments as she had been willing to dispense with, and put them on.
"But you used to like novels, you know you did, Mrs. Yellett," observed Judith Rodney. "Yes, I didn’t always entertain these views concernin’ romance. You wouldn’t believe it, but there was a time when I just nacherally went careerin’ round enveloped in fantasies. I was young then—just about the time I married paw. Every novel that was read to me, I mean that I read"—Mrs.
Yellett, and Mary, at the news, dropped the contents of her portfolio and started up with much the feeling a marooned sailor might have on hearing a sail has been sighted. At this particular stage of her career Miss Carmichael had not developed the philosophy that later in life was destined to become her most valuable asset. Her sense of humor no longer responded to the vagaries of pioneer life.
It’s too bad my boys should be dumb ’n account of a little thing like vinegar and brown paper." "Maw, they be dumb as Injuns," declared Cacta, preening herself, while the Messrs. Yellett reapplied themselves to their dinner with ostentatious interest. "Well, well!" said Mrs.
Mary had been a member of the Yellett household for something over a week, and the intellectual conquest of her Brobdingnag pupils seemed as hopeless as on that first day.
"I thought," laughed Mary, "that it was going to be like a picture I saw in a magazine, Mexican hammocks, grass cushions, and a lady pouring tea from a samovar; instead it was the sheep-wagon and ’Do you sleep light or dark?’ There is Mrs. Yellett calling us to dinner. Shall I have a chance to talk to you alone afterwards?"
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