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Updated: June 16, 2025
But it was too late: Cecily had tried to rise to her feet, had staggered forward and fallen in a faint on the bench. Dick did not remember how he helped to carry the insensible Cecily to the casa, nor what explanation he had given to the alarmed inmates of her sudden attack.
As she entered her room, Reuben faced her, standing close by. He looked miserably ill, the wreck of a man compared with what he had been at his last visit. When the door was shut, he asked without preface, and in an anxious tone: "Can you tell me where Cecily is?" Miriam laid her band on a chair, and met his gaze. "Where she is?" "She isn't at home. Haven't you heard of her?"
"Haven't you noticed it? There are differences, of course. Mr. Elgar is originally much better endowed; though at present I should think he is even less to be depended upon, either intellectually or morally. But they belong to the same species. What numbers of such young men I have met!" "What are the characteristics of the species, aunt?" Cecily inquired, with a pleasant laugh.
"Why what's she got on?" The Story Girl joined us with a quizzical smile on her face. Dan whistled. Cecily's pale cheeks flushed with understanding and gratitude. The Story Girl wore her school print dress and hat also, and was gloveless and heavy shod. "You're not going to have to go through this all alone, Cecily," she said.
And Cecily went toward the chimney, put out the lamp, took a guitar suspended on the wall, and stirred the fire, whose blaze illuminated this large room. From the narrow wicket where he remained immovable, such was the picture which Jacques Ferrand perceived.
Scott planted the yellow plum tree in Grandfather's time," said Cecily, peeling one of the plums, "and when he did it he said it was as Christian an act as he ever did. I wonder what he meant. I don't see anything very Christian about planting a tree." "I do," said the Story Girl sagely. When next we assembled ourselves together, it was after milking, and the cares of the day were done with.
Both mother and stepdaughter spoke a musical infantine English, which the daughter supplemented with her eyes, her eyebrows, her little brown fingers, her plump shoulders, a dozen charming intonations of voice, and a complete vocabulary in her active and emphatic fan. The young lady went over the house with Cecily curiously, as if recalling some old memories.
Lessingham, turning to the window, expressed her admiration of the view it afforded. "I think it is still better from Mrs. Baske's sitting-room," said Eleanor, who had been watching Cecily, and thought that she might be glad of an opportunity of private talk with Miriam. And Cecily at once availed herself of the suggestion. "Would you let me see it, Miriam?" she asked. "If it is not troublesome "
"Oh, yes, you tiresome old Blent!" cried Cecily, shaking her fair hair toward the open window. "How could a girl think she was going to live on river scenes and bric-
I never went to school half as much as you did; and you was brought up in Toronto, too. If you'd worked out ever since you was seven, and just got to school in the winter, there'd be lots of things you wouldn't know, either." "Never mind, Peter," said Cecily. "You know lots of things they don't." But Peter was not to be conciliated, and took himself off in high dudgeon.
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