Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
“I’ll make a note of that, Lize.” “Billy, my little, little boy!” She lifted the tousled head and pressed her cheek close against his. “The house is haunted, Ebenezer. It’s them swear words has brung evil speerits. Moses run fer the ax an’ come back an’ open the stove door, lucky the fire wasn’t started yit.”.
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"No, but they are," she says, pointing to her two faithful companions, who are staring hungrily at Rodney and evidently only awaiting the word from Mona to fling themselves upon him.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
"Mona, it is—it must be!" says Geoffrey, taking her hand; and so they both stand, almost breathless, on the high bank, listening intently.
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
“That’s for Billy’s cats; mine need none,” Edith declared. Mrs. Wopp was too busy to eat breakfast in the orthodox fashion. She could be heard in the kitchen preparing for the trying ordeal of wash-day. Out in the yard the head of the house was busy feeding the fowl. “I wouldn’t jist say he cant git up, Mrs. Wopp, fer Mrs. Bower sewed the tear up fer him; but the pants bein’ still on him and Joe bein’ shy-like she felt too narvous to make a good job of it an’ I reckon Joe is afeard those few stitches Mrs. Bower put in may not be very secoor.” The Bennetts’ was one of the oldest places in town, and the most beautiful. It was near the heart of the growing village ambitiously calling itself a city. Level lawns protected by high hedges and shaded by many trees, spread amply around the house and back to the first terrace, where a tangle of berry vines covered trellises that shut off a lower level devoted to vegetables. Beyond this was the chickens’ domain, rock-dotted acres that sloped sharply to where Runa Creek boiled over its stony bed. Here mother hens fluttered and scolded while web-footed broods paddled in the edges of the stream..
298 people found this
review helpful