"Sit beside me," continued Mrs. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. Whenever you grow impatient with her, remember the folly of her father. Wood. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them.
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