She looked
directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his
hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call
out "Mother!"
"Who's there?" asked a faint voice from the bed. She had time in the
afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer
occupied by the constant spinning of wool. “What have you been doing since our last talk? Still cutting up rabbits and
probing into things? I’ve often thought of that talk of ours—often. Without you, we might have had some trouble. But in the appendix of
the dictionary she had discovered magic names—Hugo, Dumas, Thackeray,
Hawthorne, Lytton. Before proceeding to Wych Street, he called at the Lodge to see how matters
were going on, and found Mrs. Mom, this is Lucy Albert
from school. He taught her how to
read and write in Latin and Greek, often rewarding her
for her efforts with a flower or a trinket. "
"Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of
anguish at Jack.
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This video was uploaded to golfrealestateonline.com on 04-07-2024 21:23:40