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The Little Colonel's House Party

Chapter 3 ONE FLEW EAST.

Word Count: 2262    |    Released on: 04/12/2017

with her maid, and the bell-boy brought it to her on a salver with sev

pen the envelopes as soon as her hands were free. Eliot, a plain, middle-aged woman, with a pat

against the high back. Three of the letters which she opened so eagerly were from the girls who had been her best friends at boarding-school. She had been away from Riverdale

nd of drives and walks, shopping and piano practice, and after that nothing but to mope and fret and worry poor Eliot. At school there was always the excitement of evading some rule or breaking it without being caught; and if there was no joke in p

the four had walked back and forth across the school campus, with their arms

ns with all the members of her household, Fay to an island in the St. Lawrence, where her family had their summer hom

down to the seashore for a few weeks. The tears were in her eyes when she laid down the three letters, after twice re

as indulgent a father, and yet-just at that moment-she felt herself the poorest child in New York. There was one thing she lacked that even the poorest begg

as stooping over the bed inspecting some clean clothes that had been sent in from the laundry. Before she could straighten herself up t

to get out of our cage next week. I'm invited to a house party. We are to spend a whole month in a house, not

er cap on her head. "You a'most scared me out of me five wits, you were that sudden in your

of papa's, you know, the Shermans are. I used to know Lloyd when they lived in New York. We played together every day, and fussed-my e

el. Because there was no one else to confide in, she confided in the maid. Patient old Eliot listened to much family history that did not interest her and whic

ome aside that needed a stitch or two. Presently, as she listened, she found herself taking more interest in the country place that Eugenia described than in anything she had heard of sin

I shall answer Cousin Elizabeth's letter this very minute and accept the invitation before he c

r best style, she dashed off three notes in an almost unreadable scrawl, to Mollie and Fay and Kell, telling them of her invitation

el. "Two hours until papa will be here. I want to tell him about it,

two cupids holding up a flower basket, from whic

" she cried, catching up the fragile little timepiece and shaking it until the pe

out when you are as old as I am. We wait for this and we wait for that, and first thing we know t

talking like that, Eliot," she cried. "I won't listen, and I w

on the shifting scenes of the streets below,-the noisy New York streets, spread out like a giant picture-book before her. Then it began to grow dark, and lig

d a glance at the little cupids told

had been carefully brushed and plaited in two long braids. "It always makes my eye

he got out the dress Eugenia had asked for. It was of some soft, clinging material, of the same sunny yellow that buttercups wear, and Eugenia knew very well

done. Any one of them would have rushed at her father the moment he came in sight, and would have put her arms around his neck and poured out the whole story. But Eugenia had never felt on such intimate terms with her father. She admired him extremely, an

me alone when I've scarcely seen you all winter?" Then he laughed outright as she made a saucy little grimace in answer. He would miss her very much when she was gone, for she was a bright li

scene. Ladies in elaborate evening gowns passed out with their escorts to the opera, or waited for the carriages that were to take them later to balls or receptions. Everywhere there

ard in a picturesque pose against the arm of her high-backed chair. The light fell softly on her pale yellow gown and her du

that she would be a brilliant social success. He was doing everything in his power to make her that, and yet-sometimes-a vague fear crossed his mind that she was growing cold and selfish. Sometimes she seemed far too old

Eugenia?" he asked, suddenly.

t, and how glad I would be to get away from this tiresome place. It's such a bore

urned back to her day-dreams in which he had no part. Happy

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