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Greene, Sarah P. McLean, 1856-1935

"Cape Cod Folks"


Meanwhile, I managed to keep my flock indoors. But when, at four o'clock,
I took my ruler in hand to give the usual signal of dismissal, the
Phenomenon's heels had already vanished through the window, and the
repressed animal spirits of a whole barbaric epoch sounded in the whoop
with which the Modoc shot through the door.
Finally, I, myself, rode up the lane in the boat. The path was well worn
by this time, and there was no danger of a catastrophe. It seemed to me a
novel performance enough, but I had not yet been to ride in Lovell's
sleigh.
Lovell came very early, and preferred to wait outside until I had
finished eating my supper. Then, with that deep self-satisfaction which
predominated in my soul, even over its appreciation of the novel and
amusing, I donned my seal-brown cloak, and stepping out of the door,
gathered up my skirts, and smiled at Mr. Lovell with a pair of seal-brown
eyes, and was not surprised to hear him ejaculate, coughing slightly;
"Ahem! _I_ think so, certainly, yes'm, _I_ think so; _I_ do."
Lovell's was the only sleigh in Wallencamp, and, as he informed me, it
was one that he had himself constructed. It had, indeed, already
suggested to my mind the workings of no ordinary intellect.


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