... I should be wild with joy to see my little lovers. The writing them is not so sweet as their two faces that seem so small way off, and yet have been two weeks from me - two wishful, wandering weeks. Now, I begin to doubt if they ever came.
I bid the stiff "good-night" and the square "good-morning" to the lingering guest, I finish mama's sacque, all but the overcasting - that fatal sacque, you recollect. I pick up tufts of mignonette, and sweet alyssum for winter, dim as winter seems these red and gold, and ribbon days.
I am sure I feel as Noah did, docile, but somewhat sceptic, under the satinet.
No frost at our house yet. Thermometer frost, I mean. Mother had a new tooth Saturday. You know Dr. S[tratton] had promised her one for a long time. "Teething" didn't agree with her, and she kept her bed, Sunday, with a face that would take a premium at any cattleshow in the land. Came to town next morning with slightly reduced features, but no eye on the left side. Doubtless we are "fearfully and wonderfully made,"and occasionally grotesquely.
L[ibbie] goes to Sunderland, Wednesday, for a minute or two; leaves here at 6½ - what a fitting hour - and will breakfast the night before; such a smart atmosphere! The trees stand right up straight when they hear her boots, and will bear crockery wares instead of fruit, I fear. She hasn't starched the geraniums yet, but will have ample time, unless she leaves before April. Emily is very mean, and her children in dark mustn't remember what she says about the damsel.
Grateful for little notes, and shall ask for longer when my birds locate. Would it were here. Three sisters are prettier than one. ... Tabby is a continual shrine, and her jaunty ribbons put me in mind of fingers far out at sea. Fanny's admonition made me laugh and cry too. In the hugest haste, and the engine waiting.
Emily.
I bid the stiff "good-night" and the square "good-morning" to the lingering guest, I finish mama's sacque, all but the overcasting - that fatal sacque, you recollect. I pick up tufts of mignonette, and sweet alyssum for winter, dim as winter seems these red and gold, and ribbon days.
I am sure I feel as Noah did, docile, but somewhat sceptic, under the satinet.
No frost at our house yet. Thermometer frost, I mean. Mother had a new tooth Saturday. You know Dr. S[tratton] had promised her one for a long time. "Teething" didn't agree with her, and she kept her bed, Sunday, with a face that would take a premium at any cattleshow in the land. Came to town next morning with slightly reduced features, but no eye on the left side. Doubtless we are "fearfully and wonderfully made,"and occasionally grotesquely.
L[ibbie] goes to Sunderland, Wednesday, for a minute or two; leaves here at 6½ - what a fitting hour - and will breakfast the night before; such a smart atmosphere! The trees stand right up straight when they hear her boots, and will bear crockery wares instead of fruit, I fear. She hasn't starched the geraniums yet, but will have ample time, unless she leaves before April. Emily is very mean, and her children in dark mustn't remember what she says about the damsel.
Grateful for little notes, and shall ask for longer when my birds locate. Would it were here. Three sisters are prettier than one. ... Tabby is a continual shrine, and her jaunty ribbons put me in mind of fingers far out at sea. Fanny's admonition made me laugh and cry too. In the hugest haste, and the engine waiting.
Emily.
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