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Updated: July 21, 2025
Blanche suddenly left her grandfather's chair and hurried away to a distant corner of the room, from whence she brought a little stand containing a work-basket and the lamp. She placed it just in front of her grandpapa's chair, and between Guly and Wilkins.
It was one of the first times that the child was taken outside of the house or the garden that blustery March day when she and Mademoiselle walked around the corner to a small house in whose basement window rested a sign, WOMAN'S EXCHANGE AND EMPLOYMENT AGENCY. A tiny bell jingled as they entered and from behind the curtains at the rear emerged a little woman whose face looked like the walnuts that were served with grandpapa's wine, very disagreeable indeed.
Impulses she could not have defined, terrors to which she could give no name, crept over Diana's will and disabled it. She trembled from head to foot and gave way. She walked up to her cousin. "Fanny, is there any letter anything of grandpapa's or of my mother's that you could show me?" "No! It was a promise, I tell you there was no writing. But my mother could swear to it."
But grandmamma had one nephew whom she had been very fond of when he was a boy, and whom she had seen a good deal of, as he and papa were at school together. His name was not the same as ours, for he was the son of a sister of grandpapa's, not of a brother. It was Vandeleur, Mr. Cosmo Vandeleur.
Joel creeping along, feeling his way cautiously, soon knew that there were two burglars instead of one in the room, and his mind was made up. "They'll be after Grandpapa's money, sure," he thought. "I have got to get out, and warn him." But how? that was the question.
"I fear me that thief Mike has nipped off the heads of a few dozens, out o' pure wicked mischief." Presently Jinty was flashing like a sunbeam in and out of the old house. "I must go round and scold Mike, then I'll come, back for breakfast, Mrs. Barbara. Grandpapa's not down yet." But scolding's a game two can play at.
In all the rooms there was a queer dark-greenness and creepiness. It smelt of bird-cages and elder bushes and of Grandpapa's funeral. And when you had seen Auntie Edie's Senegal wax-bills, and the stuffed fish, and the inside of Auntie Louie's type-writer there was nothing else to see.
And Herminia, flushing scarlet at the unexpected question, the first with which Dolly had yet ventured to approach that dangerous quicksand, replied with a deadly thrill, "No, my darling. Why do you ask me?" "Because," Dolly answered abashed, "I just wanted to know why your name should be Barton, the same as poor grandpapa's." Herminia didn't dare to say too much just then.
What contributed most to harmony in this play of relations, however, was the way the young man seemed to leave it to be gathered that, tradition for tradition, the grandpapa's own was not, in any estimate, to go for nothing. A tradition, or whatever it was, that had flowered prelusively in the Princess herself well, Amerigo's very discretions were his way of taking account of it.
"She is one of grandpapa's guests, I can tell you," said little Ellen Chauncey; "and he says we must brush up our country manners she's come from the great city." "Do you think we are a set of ignoramuses, Miss Ellen?" inquired a well-grown boy of fifteen, who looked enough like Marianne Gillespie to prove him her brother. "I don't know what that is," said Ellen.
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