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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Mamsie is restless," said Christine, putting an arm around her mother's solid waist and giving her a tight little hug apropos of nothing. "I believe it's another case of 'mail-time fever. The colonel says it comes on with Moya every afternoon about First Sergeant's call. But Moya is cunning. She goes off and pretends she isn't listening for the bugle."
And several times she attempted to tell Phronsie something of the shadow hanging over the little playmate's home. But Phronsie invariably put aside all her attempts with a gentle persistence, always saying, "He wouldn't, you know, Mamsie." And at nightfall Helen had gone; and two white little hands were folded quietly across a young girl's breast. No one told Phronsie that night; no one could.
"I'm most afraid it will rain, Polly." "Oh, no, mamsie," cried Polly, feeling as if she could fly to the ends of the earth to atone, and longing beside for the brisk walk down town. Going up to the window she pointed triumphantly to the little bit of blue sky still visible. "There, now, see, it can't rain yet awhile." "Well," said Mrs.
"Mamsie, don't these Dutch women do up things well, though?" "They do, indeed," assented Mrs. Fisher, with a critical eye for the blue gingham; "but I really suppose the Swiss beat them, Polly." "Well, they must be just perfect, then," said Polly, putting the blue gown carefully over her head. "Mamsie, I just love this dress."
"You kept us together many a time, Polly, when nothing else could." "Oh! no, I didn't, Mamsie," protested Polly, guilty of contradicting, "you and Bessie did. I just washed dishes, and swept up, and" "Baked and brewed, and fussed and stewed," finished Joel, afraid of being too sentimental.
He wouldn't ever like anybody who told a lie; and Mamsie wouldn't ever let him go to see her, and Polly's brown eyes would fill with scorn. Oh, he could feel just exactly how Polly would look, and he shivered. "Don't cry, Joe," said little Davie, feeling the thrill, and hugging him tightly; "and do see what's in it." Joel gave one plunge at the bag, untwisted it, and thrust in his hand.
"Well, he's so tiresome," said Alexia, putting her arm around her and gazing out of the window; "that's just the way he goes on at the table every single day. Oh, see it rain, Polly Pepper!" "It's slackening," said Polly, peering up at the drops, that really were beginning to fall with little spaces between. "And Mamsie will send for me soon, I guess."
"I'm going to Mamsie!" was all Joel said, as he rolled over the edge and disappeared from the room. "Oh, wait," screamed Van. Then he rolled off his side of the bed, took two big steps, and stood quite still in the middle of the floor. "You've got to go with him and help tell," said Percy pleasantly, as if proposing the most delightful thing. But Van didn't stir.
"Yes, Mamsie has sent for me, Alexia. I knew she would!" "Oh, dear me!" grumbled Alexia, awfully disappointed and racing after her. "Why, you can't ever go in all this rain, Polly Pepper." Polly burst out into a laugh. "Just look there," She pointed to the patches of light in the sky gradually growing bigger and brighter. "It doesn't rain a single drop! And, oh, Alexia, look, look the rainbow!"
"Mamsie, do you suppose old Mr. Peters ever was a little boy?" asked Davie, thoughtfully. "Dear me, yes," said Mrs. Pepper, abstractedly, as she was lost in thought over the question, Could she get the patch on Joel's little trousers before dark? "A real boy?" persisted David. "Yes, of course," answered Mother Pepper, moving her chair to get a little more of the waning light.
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