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Chapter 9 THE CEDARS.

Word Count: 3272    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

that surprised myself; but, in spite of hard work and the few daily vexations that hamper every one's lot, I continued to extract a great deal of enjoyment out

ad, and hands always fully employed; and youth and health,

to me with a strange force and illumination, for truly I needed it all then, and it was given to me. Time was a treasure trove, and I husbanded every minute with a miser's zeal. I had always been an early riser, and now I

ing sun; such twitterings and chirpings came from the lilac trees, where the little brown sparrows twittered and plumed themselves. The bird

yers, and talk cheerfully to him when he was languid and fretful, and the small duties of life were too heavy for his feeble energies. Dot always took a large portion of my time; his movements were

ew by experience that she would make her appearance downstairs with a crooked parting and a collar awry, and be grievously plaintive when C

her. Carrie had always been in before me and arranged the room. Mother slept badly, and at that early hour her face had a white, pining loo

never spoke much of her sadness to us; with an unselfishness that was most rare she refused to dim our young cheerfulness

ong confab with Deborah, and then Jack and I made our bed and dusted our room to save Martha, and by that time I was ready

ather a dull life of it, for even Jumbles refused to stay with him, and Smudge was out in the garden, lazily watching the sparrows. Poor little lonely boy, deprived of the

shiny square! When I reached the Cedars, and the butler admitted me,

ons, but she was full of droll fancies. She always insisted on her dolls joining our studies. It used to be a little embarrassing to me at first to see myself surrounded by the vacant waxen faces staring at us, with every variety of smirk and bland fatuous expression: the flaxen heads nid-nodded over open lesson-books, propped up in limp, l

t hear of lessons then. Sometimes I would coax her to sew a little, or draw; and she always had her

all sorts of wonderful things. When I was tired or lazy I used to bring out my needle-work to the seat under the cedar, and tell Flurr

soon. Flurry used to send him little gifts, which she purchased with her pocket-money-pictures, and knives, and pencils. I often begged Miss Lucas

r us all over the house; she said it made her feel cheerful-I heard a door open overhead, and caught a glimpse of a dark face watching us; but I thought it was Morgan the butler, until Flurry ca

is dinner. She generally followed him into his study, and chatted to him, until nurse fetched her at bed-time. When she had asked me some puzzling question that i

ing up a very coaxing face. Of course I confessed to a great fondness for games, but all the same I wished Mr. Lucas had not said that. Perhaps he thought me too hoidenish for his child's governe

ty story, Miss Cameron, the one about Gretchen. He said I ought to try and remember

that silly

ught he would like dear little Gretchen. He never went to sleep after all, but his eyes were wide open, staring at the fire; and then he told me he had been thinki

a very inventive storyteller, though I could warm into eloquence on occasion

her history every day. Never was there such a child for impossible adventures and hairbreadt

versations took place between Juliet and her mother, what admirable remarks did that excellent mother make, referring to sundry

y about the battle of Agincourt or any other event that it was necessary to impress on her memory. I am afraid Flurry at last took a great dislike to that well-meaning lady, and begged to hear more

ment surrounded her-a certain fitness and harmony of thought. Sometimes she would invite us into the drawing-room after luncheon, saying she felt lonely and would be glad of our society for a little. I used to

r to be alone with her own thoughts. As our knowledge of each other grew, I was struck with the flower-like unfolding of he

th. I had an inquisitive delight, I called it thirst, for human knowledge, in drawing out a stranger; no traveler exp

olk. I like to sit down before an enclosed citadel and besiege it; with such ramparts of defense there mus

ther and Dot? Oh, the dear, bright home scene that always awaited me! I wonder if Carrie loved it as I did! The homely, sunny little parlors; the cozy tea table, over which old Martha would be hovering with careful face and hands; mother in her low

is favorite name for me, and mother would look up and greet me w

came upon Carrie, coming

them. At first she used to shrug her shoulders and shake her head in a sort of disconsolate fashion

hours? If we are brickmakers, we need not always be telling the tales of our bricks." She finis

say. When tea was over, mother and I betook ourselves to the huge mending basket; sometimes Carrie joine

then by-and-by Dot had to be taken upstairs, and there were little things to do for mother when Carrie was too tired or busy to do the

Her poor people were very close to her heart, and often she told us about them as we sat working together in the evening, until mother grew quite interested, and used to ask after them by name, which pleased Carrie, and made a bond of sympathy between them. At such times I somehow felt a little sad, though I would not have owned it for worlds, for it seemed to me as though my work were so trivial compared to Carrie's-as though I were a poor little Martha, "careful and troubled about man

task of hearing Jack her catechism and giving Dot his Scripture lesson. Sunday was always a trial to Dot. He was not strong enough to g

ish fancies now, all elaborately colored on week-days-"Joseph and his Brethren" in gaudy turbans, and wonderfully inexpressive countenances, reminding me of Flurry's dolls; the queen of Sheba

ipts. I never could coax Dot to write to Fred, though Fred sent him plenty of kind me

two other artists; he was working hard, and had some copying orders. Allan saw little of him; they had

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