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Updated: September 6, 2025
"Well, here be camp," announced Mrs. Yellett. What Mary had taken for a bank of snow was a huge, canvas-covered wagon. Several dogs ran down to greet the buckboard, barking a welcome. In the background was a shadowy group, huge of stature, making its way down the mountain-path. "And here’s all the children come to meet teacher." Mrs.
Yellett recalled Mary to camp, she found that the tin breakfast service had been washed and returned to the mess-box, the beds had been neatly folded and piled in one of the wagons—in fact, the extremely simple tent-hold, to coin a word, was in absolute order. It was just 6 A.M., and Mrs. Yellett thought it high time to begin school.
The comedy element was coming a little too thick and fast. She was getting a bit heart-sick for a glimpse of her own kind, a word with some one who spoke her language. And here, at last, was the woman who had written such a charming letter, who had so graciously intimated that there was room for her at the hearth-stone. Mary was, indeed, eager to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Yellett.
Yellett folded her arms and looked at her questioner with something of a challenging mien. "What a pity! I’ve been so interested in the quotations I’ve heard you make from it." "What’s the matter with ’em?" she demanded, pride and apprehension equally commingled. Judith Rodney rushed to the rescue: "Nothing is the matter with them, Mrs.
"What kind of basques are they wearing this summer, Judy?" inquired Mrs. Yellett, regarding her guest’s trim shirt-waist judicially. "I reckon them loose, meal-sack things must be all the go since you and Miss Mary both have ’em; but give me a good, tight-fittin’ basque, every time.
Mary prayed that a fraternal spirit might dwell among her pupils. The Misses Yellett were hardly less terrifying than their brothers. They had their father’s fierce, hawklike profile, softened by youth, and the appalling height and robustness due to the freedom and fresh air of a nomadic existence.
The dialogue that followed between Mrs. Yellett and Leander as to how far back he had dropped his teeth, cannot be given, owing to the inadequacy of the English language to reproduce his toothless enunciation. Catching, as Mary did, the meaning of Mrs.
No, make no mistake about the character of the objec’ we’ve forgot. ’Tain’t sweet pertaters, ’tain’t molasses, ’tain’t corn-bread—it’s paw! It’s your pore old paw—him settin’ in the tent, forsook and neglected by his own children." All started up to remedy their filial neglect without loss of time, but Mrs. Yellett waved them back to their places.
And Mary Carmichael, succumbing gradually to the revivifying influence of the fire and the hot coffee, acknowledged honestly to herself a warmth of affection for her hostess and for the atmosphere Mrs. Yellett created about her that made even Virginia and her aunts seem less the only pivot of rational existence.
But though down, Sally was by no means out, and after a brief session with the snuff-brush she returned to the field prepared to maintain that the Yellett children, for all their pampering in the matter of having a governess imported for their benefit, were no better off than her own brood, who had taken the learning the gods provided.
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