My heart's bruke."
"Who could remember what he was, Rhoda, sitting all that evening beside
you at--where was it?"
"The Blohemian glass-blowers," Rhoda cried; "the only ones that ever
visited the Western Himisfure. Jedge," with sudden impetuosity, "that
little one, with the copper rings in his years, wasn't a Blohemian at
all. He lived up at Cape Hinlupen, an' Misc Somers see him thar when she
was a buyin' of herring thar. She's goin' to tell him, when she catches
him at Nu-ark."
The young rector observed the flash of those bright eyes following the
pleasing dimples, and the slips of orthography seemed to him never less
culpable coming from such lips and teeth.
"William," said Vesta, "come around this afternoon, and let us have our
usual Sunday reading-circle. Mr. Milburn will be awake and appreciate
it, as he is one of your most regular parishioners. Rhoda, you can
read?"
"Oh, yes'm. Misc Somers, she's a good reader. She reads the Old
Testamins. The names thar is mos' too long for me, but I reads the
Psalms an' the Ploverbs right well."
"Very well, then, we will read verse about, so that Mr. Milburn can hear
both our voices and his favorite minister's, too. You'll come, papa?"
"Yes, if I can. We have had a love-feast at Teackle Hall this morning,
and your sister from Talbot is down, but I think I can get off."
"Lord sakes!" Rhoda said, looking at Mr. Tilghman candidly; "you ain't a
minister now? Not a minister of the Gospil?"
"Unworthily so, Miss Rhoda.
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