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big bass bonanza southern seas, as I may say, by a hundred to one; than we have to the These words struck sudden joy upon the heart of Madame de Menon, but she instantly recollected, that ere this time Julia had quitted the abbey, and thus the very precaution which was meant to ensure her safety, had probably precipitated her into the hand of her enemy. This thought changed her joy to anguish; and she was hurrying from the apartment in a sort of wild hope, that Julia might not yet be gone, when the stern voice of the Abate arrested her. 'Is it thus,' cried he, 'that you receive the knowledge of our generous resolution to protect your friend? Does such condescending kindness merit no thanks—demand no gratitude?' Madame returned in an agony of fear, lest one moment of delay might prove fatal to Julia, if haply she had not yet quitted the monastery. She was conscious of her deficiency in apparent gratitude, and of the strange appearance of her abrupt departure from the Abate, for which it was impossible to apologize, without betraying the secret, which would kindle all his resentment. Yet some atonement his present anger demanded, and these circumstances caused her a very painful embarrassment. She formed a hasty excuse; and expressing her sense of his goodness, again attempted to retire, when the Abate frowning in deep resentment, his features inflamed with pride, arose from his seat. 'Stay,' said he; 'whence this impatience to fly from the presence of a benefactor?—If my generosity fails to excite gratitude, my resentment shall not fail to inspire awe.—Since the lady Julia is insensible of my condescension, she is unworthy of my protection, and I will resign her to the tyrant who demands her.',But at last they got under way and proceeded as quietly as possible down the back street to the home of Mrs. Lancaster, where Buzz, as the “Prize Baby of Vine County,” awaited them in his car, which was very handsome,—one would never have dreamed it was only a large wash-tub strapped to a coaster; flowers and cloth do make such wonderful changes if handled with art!,"But why, Billy?",And when that conflagration was lighted in me about my début, Tom did it. I was sitting peaceably in my own summer-house, dressed in the summer-before-last that Jane washes and irons every day while I am deciding how to hand out the first sip of my trousseau to the neighbours, when Tom, in a dangerous blue-striped shirt, with a tie that melted into it in tone, jumped over my fence and landed at my side. He kissed the lace ruffle on my sleeve while I reproved him severely and settled down to enjoy him. But I didn't have such a good time as I generally do with him. He was too full of another woman, and even a first cousin can be an exasperation in that condition.,It was half-past seven in the morning; the[Pg 340] sky was blue from line to line, but the monotony of the morning's brilliance of azure was relieved by a few little steam-white clouds which floated small violet island shadows under them. The horizon was a clear line, a sweep of crystal against the blue crystalline heaven it brimmed to.，"Certainly, my good woman," she replied, and the beautiful girl at once stooped and rinsed out the jug, and then, filling it with water from the clearest part of the spring, she held it up to the woman, continuing to support the jug, that she might drink with greater comfort. Having drunk, the woman said to her, "You are so beautiful, so good and kind, that I cannot refrain from conferring a gift upon you," for she was really a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor village woman, in order to see how far the girl's kind-heartedness would go. "This gift I make you," continued the fairy, "that with every word you speak, either a flower or a precious stone will fall from your mouth."，"Oh, hush!" cautioned Patricia, grasping his arm in her agitation. "She'll hear you! She's just back of us this minute."，"Miss Kendall will not disturb the class, I am sure, if she realizes that her humming is a source of annoyance," she said, her own really musical voice fluting in melodious minor cadences."It is here," says Mona, rather pleased at his remembering this promise of hers, and, going to a desk, proceeds to open a secret drawer, in which lies the picture in question.

“Don’t worry,” returned Bob. “I ought to have been able to hold him. I’m only worried about what he might do now. I’m going to wake Mr. Taylor.”,“The writing might have been nicer, too,” said Johnny apologetically, “but I had such a scratchy, bad pen.”,"I would, of course, with pleasure," stammers the unfortunate Nolly,—"only perhaps Violet heard it before!",Lucy Acton made her way towards Old Harbour Town by a lane that struck down off the road used by the coaches and post-chaises. This lane was broad and in places steep and rugged, with long spaces heavily flanked with tall and spacious trees. Elsewhere the low hedge revealed the sloping meadow or ploughed field whose margin where it sank low was defined against the blue water of the ocean.,“Are you as old as us? We’re seven,” Vilette said a bit loftily, as she discovered herself taller than May Nell.,She picked up the gold piece and, fondling it lovingly, waited until Anson had passed outside. Then with characteristic deliberation she placed it safely away beneath her saucer, thereby signifying that the incident was closed for the time being.,Ebenezer Wopp was the last silent word in patient masculinity, but his face, becoming darker with his work, would lead an onlooker to believe that sinister thoughts were struggling to find expression.,"Yes. I forgive you," she says, almost in a whisper, with a seriousness that amounts to solemnity.,The voice choked up and a tear splashed down on the hand clenched on her lap.,Then she and two girls wearing fashionable frocks and fashionable hair came in and did things to a corset they laced on me that I can't even write down, for I didn't understand the process, but when I looked in that long glass I almost dropped on the floor. I wasn't tight and I wasn't stiff, and I looked—I'm too modest to write how lovely I really looked to myself. I was spellbound with delight.,"Well for my part I hate people who sing a little. I always wish it was even less. I hold that they are a social nuisance, and ought to be put down by law. My eldest brother Nick sings really very well,—a charming tenor, you know, good enough to coax the birds off the bushes. He does all that sort of dilettante business,—paints, and reads tremendously about things dead and gone, that can't possibly advantage anybody. Understands old china as well as most people (which isn't saying much), and I think—but as yet this statement is unsupported—I think he writes poetry.","I no know, massa. She weep! She ill! She make terrible bobbery, dat poo' girl. Massa, come an' see my lil missy dis day.".