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Updated: June 3, 2025
Lamb come and take the nuts away?" "No. I'd get somebody to shoot him." Daisy hardly knew how to go along with her discourse; Hephzibah's erratic opinions started up so fast. She looked at her little rough pupil in absolute dismay. Hephzibah shewed no consciousness of having said anything remarkable. Very sturdy she looked; very assured in her judgment.
Last summer a visitor had spent a week at the farm Helen Raymond, Hephzibah's niece from New York; and now a letter had come from this same Helen Raymond, telling Hephzibah to look out for a package by express. A package by express! Hephzibah laid the letter down, left the dishes cooling in the pan, and went out into the open yard where she could look far down the road toward the village.
There was at least one good yarn in the dining-room at that moment, he had declared. He must have meant Hephzibah, but, if he did, what was there in Hephzibah's dull, gray life-story to interest an outside reader? Her story and mine were interwoven and neither contained anything worth writing about.
And yet that mistake that slight difference between "Francis" and "Frances" explained the amazing difference between the Little Frank of Hephzibah's fancy and the reality before me. The real Little Frank was a girl. In Which a Dream Becomes a Reality I said nothing immediately. I could not. It was "Little Frank" who resumed the conversation. "Who are you?" she asked. "Who I beg your pardon?
"Well, I guess she does." "Wouldn't she come here and get her lessons? Couldn't she come to see me every day while I am here?" "I 'spose she'd jump out of her skin to do it," said Mrs. Harbonner. "Hephzibah's dreadful sot on seeing you." "Mrs. Benoit," said Daisy, "may I have this little girl come to see me every day, while I am here?"
Harbonner, he did not do it. It was an accident. It wasn't anybody's fault." "It wouldn't ha' happened if I had been there, I can tell you!" said Hephzibah's mother. "I don't think much of a man if he ain't up to taking care of a woman; and a child above all. Now how long are you goin' to be in this fix?" "I don't know.
He was a slim and elegant gentleman, dressed with elaborate care, who appeared profoundly bored with life in general and our society in particular. He sported one of Hephzibah's detestations, a monocle, and spoke, when he spoke at all, with a languid drawl and what I learned later was a Piccadilly accent.
Daisy then asked if she could read words; and getting an assenting nod again, she tried her in that. But here Hephzibah's education was defective; she could read indeed, after a fashion; but it was a slow and stumbling fashion; and Daisy and she were a good while getting through a page. Daisy shut the book up. "Now Hephzibah," said she, "do you know anything about what is in the Bible?"
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