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The Imp saluted and promptly disappeared behind the apple tree in question, while I stood watching Lisbeth's dexterous fingers and striving to remember a line from Keats descriptive of a beautiful woman in the moonlight. Before I could call it to mind, however, Lisbeth interrupted me. "Don't you think you might pick up my shawl instead of staring at me as if I was "
Blanche was already at her window, waving wildly with a handkerchief in each hand, which meant might she come up at once. Marjory, all eagerness and excitement, waved back "yes," wondering what could be the reason for such an early visit. She was just going to run down the garden to meet Blanche when she heard Lisbeth's voice calling, "Hae ye coontit yer claes, Marjory?
But these perhaps forgot that her other lover was in the same predicament as the accepted one that of the two, indeed, he was the more to blame, for he set off to T'nowhead on the Sabbath of his own accord, while Sam'l only ran after him. And then there is no one to say for certain whether Bell heard of her suitors' delinquencies until Lisbeth's return from the kirk.
That great day was what she was waiting for, not only because it would be so pleasant for Crookhorn to be out, but because no food was equal to the first buds of spring for making goats yield rich milk. Lisbeth's mother had been far from well ever since the day that Lisbeth went over to Hoel Farm for the first time.
He sat out in the drizzling rain, and in the heavy rain was wet to the skin and the sharp wind dried his clothes upon him. If he went to the farm-houses near, he was thumped and shoved about. He was "grim-looking and ugly," the girls and the boys said. What became of Anne Lisbeth's boy? What could become of him? It was his fate to be "never loved."
Sam'l, who was a student of women, knew this, and so, instead of pushing the door open and walking in, he went through the rather ridiculous ceremony of knocking. Sanders Elshioner was also aware of this weakness of Lisbeth's, but, though he often made up his mind to knock, the absurdity of the thing prevented his doing so when he reached the door.
The kitchen at Hunters' Brae was a picture to see. A large room, bright and airy, plates in orderly rows upon the dresser, copper pans that shone like mirrors, spotless table and spotless floor, a big open fire throwing out a cheerful glow such was Lisbeth's domain. To complete the picture, there was Lisbeth herself, a most wholesome hearty-looking old lady, with rosy cheeks and kindly eyes.
Although Lisbeth Longfrock was light-footed, especially with her birch-bark shoes on, she lagged behind. It was like wading in deep water to try to run in that long frock of hers, which, in the hasty start of the morning, she had forgotten to tuck up in her belt as usual. Lisbeth's ordinary shoes were clumsy wooden ones.
Madame Olivier told the Baron that she had gone to his wife's house, thinking that she would find him there. "Poor thing! I should never have expected her to be so sharp as she was this morning," thought Hulot, recalling Lisbeth's behavior as he made his way from the Rue Vanneau to the Rue Plumet.
"Yes," said Dinah, careful not to oppose any feeling of Lisbeth's, for her reliance, in her smallest words and deeds, on a divine guidance, always issued in that finest woman's tact which proceeds from acute and ready sympathy; "yes, I remember too, when my dear aunt died, I longed for the sound of her bad cough in the nights, instead of the silence that came when she was gone.
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