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?©, Lyda Farrington

"We Ten Or, The Story of the Roses"

Blackwood would willingly have given you
a pound or two of macaroons and a whole pitcher full of chocolate, had
she known you were hungry."
"Oh, I'm not saying a word against her in particular; she's a first-rate
old party," commenced Phil, but he was instantly interrupted.
"Phil, you are positively vulgar," cried Nora, in a tone of disgust.
"Don't speak of our dear old friend in that way, Phil; it isn't nice,"
said Nannie.
"Well, now, here's a queer thing," remarked Phil, in an argumentative
tone. "If I'd said Mrs. Blackwood was 'a host in herself,' it would
have been considered a delicate compliment; and yet when I call her a
'party,' which certainly means a host, you two jump on me. There's no
accounting for the eccentricities of the feminine character." Then, as
his head sank back, "I do believe somebody's been pulling the feathers
out of this sofa pillow; there can't be two dozen left in it. I suppose
Betty's been making an Indian head-dress for herself. Just poke that
history under my head, will you, Jack? or I'll certainly get rush of
blood to the brain. There, that's better! Why so silent, most noble
Felix?" with a sidelong glance at me after settling himself.


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