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Janice Meredith by Paul Leicester Ford
page 44 of 806 (05%)
"Then I shall take it to him, and narrate to him all the
circumstances."

"Tattle-tale, tattle-tale!" retorted Tabitha, scornfully.

With even greater scorn her friend turned her back, and
leaving the house, walked toward the stable. This took her
through the old-fashioned, hedge-begirt kitchen garden, in
which flowers were grown as if they were vegetables, and
vegetables were grown as if they were flowers. The moment
Janice had passed within the tall row of box, her expression of
mingled haughtiness and determination ended; she came to a
sudden halt, said "Oh!" and then pretended to be greatly
interested in a butterfly. The bravest army can be stampeded
by a surprise, and after having screwed up her spirit to the
point of facing Fownes in his fortress, the stable, Miss Meredith's
courage deserted her on almost stumbling over him a
hundred yards nearer than she expected. So taken aback was
she that all the glib explanation she had planned was forgotten,
and she held out the miniature to him without a single word.

Charles had been walking to the house, and only paused
at meeting Miss Meredith. He glanced at the outstretched
hand, and then let his eyes come back to the girl's face, without
making the slightest motion to take his property.

Tongue-tied and doubly embarrassed by his calm scrutiny,
the young lady stood with flushed cheeks, and with long
black lashes dropped to hide a pair of very shamed eyes,
the personification, in appearance, of guilt.
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