Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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“That’s right,” says Eliza, as she begins to cut a loaf of bread. A little older she looks; her form a little fuller; her air more matronly than of yore; but evi- dently contented and happy as women need be. “Harry, my boy, how did you come on in that sum, to-day?” says George, as he laid his hand on his son’s head. Harry has lost his long curls; but he can never lose those eyes and eyelashes, and that fine, bold brow, that flushes with triumph, as he answers, “I did it, every bit of it, myself, father; and nobody helped me!” “That’s right,” says his father; “depend on yourself, my son. You have a better chance than ever your poor father had.” At this moment, there is a rap at the door; and Eliza goes and opens it. The de- lighted-“Why!- this you?”- calls up her husband; and the good pastor of Am- herstberg is welcomed. There are two more women with him, and Eliza asks them to sit down. Now, if the truth must be told, the honest pastor had arranged a little pro- gramme, according to which this affair was to develop itself; and, on the way up, all had very cautiously and prudently exhorted each other not to let things out, ex- cept according to previous arrangement. What was the good man’s consternation, therefore, just as he had motioned to the ladies to be seated, and was taking out his pocket-handkerchief to wipe his mouth, so as to proceed to his introductory speech in good order, when Madame |