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Updated: June 22, 2025
He placed her in one. As he touched her hand, he felt the feverish tremble. "My dear child, what is it?" Her eyes drooped, and tears beaded the lashes. "You shouldn't have come out. Why did you not send for me?" "I I wanted to come. I knew Hanny would be gone. I wanted to see you." She was strangely embarrassed. He was standing by the side of the chair and took her hand again.
"Cousin Margaret, I do wonder if you appreciate that child," said Roseann, when Hanny had gone out on the porch to have a romp with little Daisy. "She's such a smart little thing, and not a bit set up about it. I've been clear beat to see how she understands books, and people, too. And she's so industrious and pleasant-tempered. She makes me think of Grandmother Underhill and Aunt Eunice.
"And oh, father, the cousins really are here. Two old, old ladies " Mr. Underhill inquired about them, and learned their circumstances were quite straitened. He promised to come up soon and see them. Mrs. Brockner kissed Hanny, quite charmed with her simplicity and pretty manner. And she had never once thought about the length of her old brown skirt. It was supper time when they reached home.
I shall have to be on hand to see the triumphal procession as it goes down Broadway." Hanny's imagination had rendered it possible. Joe swung her up in his strong arms. "We think a good deal of our Hanny," he said laughingly.
"You just watch what beautiful curves there are to her lips, and her brown eyes lighten up like morning; and when they are a little sad, you can think that twilight overshadows her. I like to watch them change so. I'm awfully sorry they're gone away. If we could have another big brother, I'd like it to be Mr. Theodore." Hanny used to hope when she was as big as Margaret she would be as pretty.
These didn't come from Santa Claus, for they had on a card "With best love and a Merry Christmas, from Dolly." That was Dolly Beekman. Hanny laid them up against her face and kissed them, they were so soft and beautiful. She drew a long breath before she opened the box. Of course it couldn't be a real live kitty. John and Steve were coming in at the door.
"Count up and see how old you would be, Hanny," he replied. "Why, I should be sixty-five." "Not as old as either grandmother," said John. "If the world doesn't come to an end," suggested Hanny, cautiously. She remembered the fright she had when she was afraid it would come to an end. "It isn't half developed," interposed Benny Frank. "And we haven't half discovered it.
One big boy was whistling a jig tune, and clapping on his knee. "That's old Mrs. McGiven," explained Hanny. "The school-children go there for cake and candy and slate pencils, because hers have such nice sharp points. And Biddy Brady!" Jim was with the boys. He gave Hanny a nod and laughed and joined the whistling. "Oh, Jim Biddy's baby is crying " "Come, start up again, Biddy.
It seemed as if she had been snatched from some great danger; and now that she had her safe and sound, she felt as if she should never let her go again. "You're all excitement, Hanny; you tremble like a leaf. Such dissipations are bad for growing girls." "Oh, mother, I think I'm done growing," Hanny laughed, with a soft ring of music in her voice.
Hanny stood second in the row, looking so bright and eager that she was absolutely pretty. And Jim's chum, the handsomest lad in the room, had chosen her. When she saw Daisy, she wanted to run down and kiss her, she was so delighted.
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