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Greene, Sarah P. McLean, 1856-1935

"Cape Cod Folks"

Those sacred window curtains, of green
paper, flowered with crimson roses, were never rolled up; but as the
light strayed in at one side, and fell on the Cradlebow's fine head,
often I reflected that under certain other conditions of life, meaning
conditions more favorable to Luther Larkin, I might have regarded him
very tenderly, and invested the strength and beauty of his young manhood
with heroic meaning.
As it was, I assumed that I was years beyond him in the gravest respects.
And if there was any truth in what Madeline had intimated, possibly I had
been at fault for not impressing this fact more deeply on his mind.
"So you are getting sadly behindhand with your lessons, Luther," I said.
"I wish you would make a brave effort to catch up. There is no true
attainment to be reached without a corresponding degree of effort--of
perseverance."
I spoke with a serious and gracious air, as though this sentiment,
gleaned from a profound experience, had occurred to me as an idea
peculiarly my own.
"Never mind the lessons!" replied my audacious pupil, brightly.
"Teacher," he added presently, having fallen into a gently musing
attitude; "how shiny those crimples in your hair look, with that streak
of sun lighting on 'em!"
"Luther," said I, very gravely: "you ought not to talk to me about my
hair.


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