Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
She was happy and the time passed unnoticed till she had finished, and put the food back in the pail, when a queer, dizzy feeling came upon her and she sank down on one of the rugs. “I always knew that house had something to do with me,” Billy declared to Mr. Smith. “The kids call it a wicked house, but it’s only the people living in it that’s wicked. It’s a splendid old place; and when I’m a man and have money enough, I’m going to buy it and fix it up fine, and give it a fair chance.” On the wall hung a gilt-framed portrait, which rumor said represented Ebenezer Wopp, a wreath of carefully made wax flowers, a silver coffin-plate framed and bearing the name and date of demise of Mr. Wopp’s mother, and two or three colored chromos..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"Nearly all the Irish farmers are," returns Miss Mansergh, reluctantly. "When I stay with Uncle Wilfrid in Westmeath, I see them all going to mass every Sunday morning. Of course"—kindly—"there are a few Protestants, but they are very few."I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
"Now, once for all, Mona," interrupts he, with determination, "I strictly forbid you ever to go to Ryan's cottage again."
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
Betty had a conviction, though an unspoken one, that Moses was the primary cause of Job’s infirmity. The slowest of a large family of striped fluffy turkeys to emerge from the shell, he had been assisted in his efforts by the impatient Moses. Betty felt sure that the clumsy fingers of the boy had ruined the little turkey’s eye. The accusation, however, was too dreadful to be put into words. “It’s time Billy was at home,” he heard his mother say as he opened her room door; and he stumbled on more hurriedly, across the bridge—at last, the Fo’castle! “Oh, no, not a fairy; only Cinderella. Last night I was the poor little cinder girl; now my fairy godmothers, two, have touched me with their wands, needles, and I’m so fine even the Prince didn’t know me.” “Good dog! I understand you, Bouncer, and I’m not lonesome any more.”.
298 people found this
review helpful