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Stockton, Frank Richard, 1834-1902

"The House of Martha"

"Then you have something to say to me?"
I remarked.
"Yes," she answered, "I have a good deal to say. Let us walk on to a
more shaded place."
"Now it strikes me," said I, "that the most pleasant place to wait will
be in the carriage; there we can sit and talk quite comfortably."
"Oh, no," she said, with a sort of half laugh, "it is stuffy and horrid.
I greatly prefer the fresh air. I have reason to suppose you do not
object to conversing under a tree. I see a promising bit of shade a
little farther on."
"Would it be wise to go so far from the carriage?" I asked. "Have you
left in it anything of value?"
Mother Anastasia was more animated than I had ever seen her before when
in the uniform of the house.
"Oh, pshaw!" she answered. "You know the people around here do not steal
things out of carriages. Let us step on."
"But first," I said, "I will run down and pull the carriage out of the
way of passing vehicles. It now stands almost across the road."
With a movement of impatience, she put her hand upon my arm. "Don't
trouble yourself about that hack; let it stand where it is. I wish to
speak with you, and do not let us waste our time."
I had no objection to speaking with Mother Anastasia, and, giving no
further thought to the abandoned vehicle, I walked with her to a spot
where a clump of straggling locust-trees threw a scanty shade upon the
sidewalk.


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