His eyes fell upon Mrs. Conrad hastening to her young charge. As yet she had not noticed Oliver. She only saw Florette. 鈥楩ather never held up his head after that, and within the year he died. I was nearly heart-broken too; but I was young, and I bore up better. As I was all alone in the world, and had the shop on my hands, I took a husband, who offered just then鈥擬ichael Conlan, a clerk in a maltster鈥檚 at Newark. He was a kindly soul, not over strong, but he helped me in the business, and we managed to get along. It was evident to all in the family circle that Abbie had become a changed girl since her stay in Quebec. Cheerfulness had always been her chief characteristic. Peals of laughter and French and English songs, with choruses, could be heard wherever she presided. Even in the poultry yard her rich fund of humor manifested itself in the naming of her feathered flock. A bronze turkey, stately and dignified, was addressed as Chief Machecawa; a big Brahma cock, who held his head above the others, she called "Harold the Great;" while another cock, almost as gay and proud in appearance, and who manifested a decided antipathy to the Brahma, was designated as "Thomas 脿 Becket;" while still another was "William the Conqueror." All these creatures had distinct personalities and dispositions of their own, and were called after noted historical characters whose first names corresponded to those of her numerous suitors whom they were supposed to resemble. Like Bearie, her stories of bygone days were the product of a shrewd mind, a keen sense of humor, and a clear memory. She disliked housework and fancy-work, and all kinds of systematic work except weaving. When set to tease wool, every hard and knotty tuft was tossed into the fire. When stockings were given her to darn, she ran a gathering string round each hole and drew it together regardless of the discomfort of the wearer. She liked weaving. It was the only work she did like, and it fell to her lot consequently to supply the house with flannel and linen. The coarse but snowy table covers Abbie had spun and woven with her own hands from flax grown on the farm. The boys' shirts were made by her from the wool of their own sheep. Few women of the settlement could outrival her in the lost art, for she could make between forty and fifty yards of flannel in a week. They shall be sent up at once. 在线观看 有码 制服 中文|午夜剧院|欧美成人 O LIVER re-entered the store and went up to Mr. Bond, who was standing behind the counter awaiting his return. It took Ernest some minutes to arrive at the facts of the case, but when he understood them he leaned against the pump, which stood near the back-kitchen window, and mingled his tears with the cook鈥檚. CHAPTER VI.