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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"


"Not at home, ma'am!" rang the inexorable Plush.
But David's good heart took the woman's part. "She is at home, now,"
said he, coming forward. "I saw her go into the house scarce a minute
ago."
"Oh, thank you, sir," said Mrs. Wilson. But Mr. Plush's face was
instantly puckered all over with signals, which David not
comprehending, he said, "Can I say a word with you, sir?" and, drawing
him on one side, objected, in an injured and piteous tone. "We are not
at home to such gallimaufry as that; it is as much as my place is
worth to denounce that there bonnet to our ladies."
"Bonnet be d--d," roared David, aloud. "It is her old nurse. Come,
heave ahead;" and he pointed up the stairs.
"Anything to oblige you, captain," said Henry, and sauntered into the
drawing-room; "Mrs. Wilson, ma'am, for Miss Fountain."
"Very well; my niece will be here directly."
Lucy had just gone to her own room for some working materials.
"You had better come to an anchor on this seat, Mrs. Wilson," said
David.
"Thank ye kindly, young gentleman," said Mrs. Wilson; and she settled
her stately figure on the seat. "I have walked a many miles to-day,
along of our horse being lame, and I am a little tired. You are one of
the family, I do suppose?"
"No, I am only a visitor."
"Ain't ye now? Well, thank ye kindly, all the same. I have seen a
worse face than yours, I can tell you," added she; for in the midst of
it all she had found time to read countenances _more mulierurn.


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