Mary Marie by Eleanor H. (Eleanor Hodgman) Porter
page 233 of 253 (92%)
page 233 of 253 (92%)
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talking. In another minute Mr. Harold Hartshorn had walked away, and
Father had turned back on to the piazza. As soon as I could control my shaking knees, I went downstairs. Father was in his favorite rocking-chair. I advanced slowly. I did not sit down. "Was that Mr. Hartshorn?" I asked, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. "Yes." "Mr. H-Hartshorn," I repeated stupidly. "Yes. He came to see me about the Downer place," nodded Father. "He wants to rent it for next year." "To rent it--the Downer place!" (The Downer place was no rose-embowered cottage far from the madding crowd! Why, it was big, and brick, and _right next_ to the hotel! I didn't want to live there.) "Yes--for his wife and family. He's going to bring them back with him next year," explained Father. "His wife and family!" I can imagine about how I gasped out those four words. "Yes. He has five children, I believe, and--" |
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