"Your generosity, Mr. Wortley, to say nothing of your father--" He
paused helplessly. "Mrs. Judd knows what this will mean to us this
winter," he finished. "No, I thank you, Mr. Wortley, I thank you
sir, but I never touch liquor in any form. But I drink their health
in this excellent iced coffee, I do indeed."
Caroline slipped around to Luella, who sat mopping her eyes behind
the kitchen door.
"I wish Mr. Wortley--Mr. Grumpy Wortley--wouldn't kiss me any more,
Luella," she complained, "it prickles my face dreadfully. I don't
see why I can't go with 'em as far as the Mountain Road--I'd love to
ride on his horse. I was bridesmaid--why can't I? Do you think my
mother'll let me keep this pin? What did you cry for, Luella? What
was it he said to you? He's going to drive me down to the village to
write some telegrams to New York with him, after they've started.
And then he'll speak to mother about the pin, but we have to get the
telegrams written first. Why do they always put it into the papers
the first thing, Luella? When you were married, were there telegrams
about it in the papers, up here?"
Luella tied on her checked apron and attacked the soiled dishes
heaped on the kitchen table; her cheeks were deeply flushed and her
hands trembled a little.
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