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Wych Hazel

Chapter 3 CORNER OF A STAGE COACH

Word Count: 2803    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

me, Miss Hazel!-here's the morning,

uld see nothing-unless the flame of a wind-tossed can

l?' remonstrat

Wych Hazel wi

rk's dress

Mr. Falkirk chooses t

e stage

age can

ler, earnestly. 'And Gotham says it's only a

rds had an arousing power,

wake up, with the certainty

urrying to light two tall sper

s the matter with Mr.

e said you wanted to take t

didn't, a

'that if it is the first, ma'am, we'll sa

nto a state of physical and mental act

rls over her comb,-'there's my n

dress!' said Mrs. Sadd

he veil is a shade lighter. Everything matches everything, and everyt

id the good woman again.

catch a glimpse of the other face-fun and mischief and beauty, all in one too! To put on the

d one lamp burning till day should come; and the chill air streaming in. Mr. Falkirk paced up and down w

is, sir? But wh

as I can learn, taken by people setting out to seek their fortune. It

,-lamps in the hall and on the steps; lamps in the parlours; lamps running up and down the yards and road and dimly disclosing the outlines of a thorough bred stage coach and four horses, with the various figures pertaining thereto. Steadily the dawn came creeping up; the morning

the door into the long breakfast room- delicious with its fire and lights

you've got? I want brea

ink of answering in words,-of course, the waiter could do not

with immense satisfacti

ather mockingly. 'Mr. Fal

fire such a punch that it must have blaz

uch a fire as that. And breakfast will be here in a moment. If it co

Falkirk,' sa

s-which yours are not. Others again-Ah, here is breakfast,-Now my dear, eat as much as you can,-

ld?-and didn't she hear the duo that greeted him?-'What, Mr. Falkirk!'-'Sir, your most obedient!'-and her guardian's double reply-'Back again, eh?'- and 'Your most obedient, Mr. Kingsland.' Wych Hazel felt provoked

aid the waiter

whisking her down the hall and into the stage, before the pa

at last; much tried at being tossed gently into the stage like a b

ere is a tide in the affairs of men, which

, and passed his hand over his brow with the air

trunk and man after man found their way up to the roof. Then the door was flung open, and other passengers tumbled in,

Mr. Falkirk politely, 'I

ooner this went the sooner she would get another. And they rolled off, sweetly and silently, upon the country road. The morning was lovely. Light scarfs of fog floated about the mountain tops, light veils of cloud just

oice from the further end of the coach. Wych Hazel dre

s going there,' sai

a sign of a place of entertainment between Stone Bridg

of entertainment amon

gentleman, with a suspicious gl

e you were there, Mr

and's next

ess. About his face, so far off as the other end of the stage, there seemed nothing remarkable; it was grave, rather concise in its indications; but the voice

er stranger, 'what is supposed to

lkirk dryly. 'Lost in the ea

sir!-of B

rism, I believe,' said Mr. Falkirk between his te

act as guide, sir. I l

our head a little this way, and see the vei

umed: 'You have lately returned, I

was

rd, 'do you consider that

said her guardian dropping his voice, as he lo

-Between ourselves, this is a hard place to ke

d it. Forth to meet his came a little gol

t with being pressed and repressed, I am dying by quarter inches! Just int

ecluded all reference to anything else whatever. Nobody's grandmother could have had less (visible) attention than Miss Hazel, up to the time when the coach rolled up to the door of a wayside inn, and the party got out to a luncheon or early dinner, as som

and curling herself down on the arm of the sofa. 'Mr. Falkirk, all my previous acquaintance with cushions was superfic

places; and then went off into the general eating-room, and by and by, from there or some other insalubrious region came a servant, with

s it go?

ne corner of the sofa, much like a kitten; a small speci

u eat, Mi

irk-what a lovely kitten! Do y

puss in boots" before, but never had

t you? We shall be off in a few minutes, and you wil

removal of those cucumbers-and the restoration of that chick

Mr. Falkirk with a face more expressive th

Falkirk-there is Mr. Kingsland

ting his

the piazza,' said Wych Hazel, closing her

o from here to the next stopping place wi

sir, a basket that woul

gone, and even the kitten had disappeared. Meanwhile the stage coach rattled and swung up to the piazza steps, where were presently gathered the various travellers, o

table was a paper of crackers; two blue-eyed and blue-aproned youngsters stood watching every motion as she swa

I was beginning to b

g to do with that

t along

lap, I

curacy of your judgm

r coach at

y of cats at Chickaree,' said

ady meekly, dropping her vei

oor. 'Roughish road, Mr. Falkirk-and t'other gents not

ently, lifting one corner of her basket lid, Wych Hazel drew forth a radiant spray o

d better put it in the basket, my dear; it

s, sir?-or here are

Mr. Falkirk slowly, yet with a somewhat pac

rt to bring puss,

whispered

culated M

se, first pers

he definition

alifies your suffer

kir

rimary action upon y

ing to Ch

on: there was no relief to the tiresomeness of the way. It was a long morning. Dusty and weary, the coach- load was set down at last at another country inn; by the side of a little river which had well filled its banks. The travellers were not, it must

am. You can have r

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Wych Hazel
Wych Hazel
“Anna Bartlett Warner was an American writer, the author of several books, and of poems set to music as hymns and religious songs for children.”