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Updated: June 14, 2025
The parson burst out into a laugh, like a boy. "Hush, husband," warned Mrs. Henderson; "I'm afraid Jerusha will hear." "I can't help it, Almira." His eyes were brimming with amusement. "Our boys are getting waked up already." "I ain't asleep," declared Peletiah, looking up at his father in amazement; "I'm eating my dinner."
"I know it seems a somewhat peculiar thing to propose" and the parson smiled "with our two boys and Jerusha." "Yes," said Mrs. Henderson, "it is, and I never thought seriously of it." "She won't do Peletiah any harm" and then he laughed "and she might brighten him up, if she's the girl Mrs. Fisher's letter indicates. And as for Ezekiel, there's no harm to be thought of in that quarter.
"I'm glad I haven't got to have wet brown paper all over me," declared Joel, with a grimace "old, slippery, shiny brown paper." "I barked my shin," gravely announced Peletiah, standing quite still. "Oh, so you did," cried Polly, with a remorseful twinge. "Now you must wait, Davie, till I fix Peletiah up, for he's company, you know."
"Oh, yes, they are." "No, they ain't," he declared obstinately. "My mother says we mustn't contradict," put in Ezekiel, with a reproving glance at him across Rachel's lap. Peletiah unfolded his hands in extreme distress, but he couldn't say that men were bugs, so he sat still. "Anyway, they are in the city, where I lived," said Rachel, "so never mind.
Rachel and the two boys were proceeding over the greensward leading down the road. She had one on either side; and, wonder of wonders, they were all hand in hand. "We're going to see your Gran," said Rachel, a very sober expression settling over her thin little face. "What?" said Peletiah. "Your Gran; that's what your mother said."
"I'm goin' to read an' I'm goin' to write, an' then I can write a letter to my Phronsie." She ended up with a cheese, plunging down on the grass and puffing out her gown like a small balloon. "You can't do that," she said, nodding triumphantly up at the two boys. "I don't want to," said Peletiah, sitting still on the door-stone. "Well, you can't, anyway, 'cause you haven't got a frock.
"Well, read them letters," said Grandma mournfully, when she could control her speech enough to say anything; "maybe they'll tell more about the accident," and she put her hand again behind her best ear. "'Tain't in the letters," said Peletiah, "it's only just happened." But Grandma didn't hear, so he picked up Polly's letter, which was open, and began in a singsong tone: "'Dear Mrs. Henderson "
Blodgett's goin' to burn up all that rubbish left after he pulled down his cow-pen, you know." "When's he goin' to burn it?" continued Peletiah. "This afternoon," said Polly. "Ben's over there, and Joel's goin', and David." All the while she was dabbing off the blood running out of the side where the court plaster slipped when the stage went over.
Polly took off the bloody rag, setting her lips tightly together, until she saw Joel's face again. Then she began quickly, "Oh, what a nice time you're goin' to have at the bonfire, Joe!" "Is there goin' to be a bonfire?" asked Peletiah, with more interest than he had hitherto shown. "Yes," said Polly, "there is, Peletiah. Mr.
The parson's wife leaned on the rolling-pin, and a bright color came into her face. "I'll tell her," said Rachel, a soft gleam in her eyes, and smoothing her apron. "And, Peletiah, go into the buttery, and get that little pat of butter done up in a cloth, and give it to Grandma. I do wish my pies were baked" and she fell to work again "so I could send her one."
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