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Updated: August 27, 2024
That is when ghosts walk." "There are no such things as ghosts, Anne." "Oh, but there are, Marilla," cried Anne eagerly. "I know people who have seen them. And they are respectable people. Charlie Sloane says that his grandmother saw his grandfather driving home the cows one night after he'd been buried for a year. You know Charlie Sloane's grandmother wouldn't tell a story for anything.
She had never known anything like this before, and a sort of general shame of femininity seemed to be upon her. When she followed her husband into Mrs. Sloane's house she felt herself as burdened with shame as if she stood in Rebecca's place. Her little face, all blue with the sharp cold, shrank, shocked and sober, into the depths of her great hood.
"What's wrong?" Hastings demanded, reaching for his spectacles. Wilton, on his way down the stairs, flung back: "A woman hurt outside." From the hall below came Mr. Sloane's high-pitched, complaining tones: "Unfathomable angels! What do you say? Who?"
Gilbert sat down beside her on the boulder and held out his Mayflowers. "Don't these remind you of home and our old schoolday picnics, Anne?" Anne took them and buried her face in them. "I'm in Mr. Silas Sloane's barrens this very minute," she said rapturously. "I suppose you will be there in reality in a few days?" "No, not for a fortnight.
"What fun," cried Isobel, sitting up against her pillows. A few weeks before Isobel would have scorned such a "babyish" suggestion from anyone. "Where shall we go?" "I've always wanted to go to Venice. We got as far as Naples and then 'Liza Sloane's grandson got scarlet fever and Little-Dad went down and stayed with him. I'd love to live in a palace and go everywhere in little boats."
It rewarded their quest with a succession of pretty surprises. First, skirting Mr. Sloane's pasture, came an archway of wild cherry trees all in bloom. The girls swung their hats on their arms and wreathed their hair with the creamy, fluffy blossoms.
The sun was setting, and it was bitterly cold; the snow creaked and the trees swung with a stiff rattle of bare limbs in the wind. The two men never spoke to each other. The minister drove slowly, and they could always see Mrs. Jim Sloane's blue plaid shawl ahead. When they reached the Caleb Thayer house, Barney stopped and William followed on alone after the sleigh.
The Islands of Madeira, Teneriffe, St. Jago, &c. are described in many Voyages to the East Indies, particularly in Barrow's Voyage to Cochin China. In the first volume of Sir Hans Sloane's Jamaica, there is also a good account of Madeira.
Sloane's collection, it should be added, contained an immense number of valuable books and manuscripts, as well as of objects more usually associated with the idea of a museum. He died in 1753. The Hon. Robert Boyle was born at Lismore, in the county Waterford, in 1627, being the fourteenth child of the first Earl of Cork.
Jim Sloane, in her blue plaid shawl, tramping frequently from her solitary house through the village, was a byword and a mocking to all the people. When William and Barney came abreast of her house they saw the blue flutter of Mrs. Jim Sloane's shawl out before, above the blue dazzle of the snow. "Hullo!" she was crying out in her shrill voice, and waving her hand to them to stop.
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