The Desired Woman by Will N. (William Nathaniel) Harben
page 15 of 390 (03%)
page 15 of 390 (03%)
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"Where is Irene?" he inquired.
The maid was about to answer when a response came from above. "Here I am, father," cried Miss Mitchell. "Can't you come up here? I've been washing my hair; I've left it loose to dry. There is more breeze up here." "If you want to see me you'll trot down here," the old gentleman said, crustily. "I put myself out to make that trip down-town for you, and I'll be hanged if I climb those steps again till bed-time." "Well, I'll be down in a minute," his daughter replied. "I know you have no _very_ bad news, or you would have been more excited. You see, I know you." Mitchell grunted, dropped his stick into an umbrella-holder, and turned into the library, where he again encountered the maid, now vigorously dusting a bookcase. "Leave it, leave it!" he grumbled. "I don't want to be breathing that stuff into my lungs on a day like this. There is enough dust in the streets without having actually to eat it at home." With a sly look and a low impulsive titter of amusement the yellow girl restored a vase to its place and turned into the study adjoining. "Get out of there, too!" Mitchell ordered. "I want to read my paper, and you make me nervous with your swishing and knocking about." |
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