|Sophie and Clara all dressed up for the Halloween dance at school|
|Whatever you do, don't turn around!|
|Tat and piercing|
|Zip your lips, girl!|
|Joe digs, the girls find the treasures|
|What do we have here?|
|Donna shows us one of the teeny-tinies|
|Stella shows off three nice ones|
|Inge displays one of the larger potatoes|
|Not a great harvest, but it will make a few meals anyway|
|L to R Donna shows our seconds, small, medium, and large potatoes|
|I boiled up the tiny ones for supper that night.|
|Mint leaves to dry for herbal tea|
|A View to the East, along Cty Hwy 2, North of Itasca State Park|
|Pine and Spruce on the left and Tamarac and Birch on the right|
|A roadside cluster of gold and green|
|Colors along the telephone wire cut|
|The tamaracks at the curve in the road makes one wonder what awaits|
"The first evening means so much. When you arrived, we were in for a perculiarly mauvais quart d'heure."Mr. Beebe continues a few minutes later with a more in depth sketch of Mr. Emerson's character.
He expressed his regret.
"Do you, by any chance, know the name of an old man who sat opposite us at dinner."
"Is he a friend of yours?"
"We are friendly, as one is in pensions."
"Then I will say no more."
He pressed her very slightly, and she said more.
"I think he is [nice]; nice and tiresome. I differ from him on almost every point of any importance, and so, I expect—I may say I rather hope—you will differ. But his is a type one disagrees with rather than deplores. When he first came here he not unnaturally put people's backs up. He has no tact and no manners—I don't mean by that that he has bad manners—and he will not keep his opinions to himself. We nearly complained about him to our depressing Signora, but I am glad to say we thought better of it.And finally, as young George Emerson agrees to offer once more, his and his father's rooms with a view in exchange for those of Miss Bartlett and Miss Lucy Honeychurch, who have no view. He scores a great coup that leaves us cheering and laughing.
"Am I to conclude," said Miss Bartlett, "that he is a Socialist?"
Mr. Beebe accepted the convenient word, not without a slight twitching of the lips.
The young man gazed down on the three ladies, who felt seated on the floor, so low were their chairs. "My father," he said, "is in his bath, so you cannot thank him personally. But any message given by you to me will be given by me to him as soon as he comes out."But these little snippets, as much as they are enjoyed by those familiar with all the personalities, barely scratch the surface of the pleasure of this book. You must read it yourself.
Miss Bartlett was unequal to the bath. All her barbed civilities came out wrong end first. Young Mr. Emerson scored a notable triumph to the delight of Mr. Beebe and to the secret delight of Lucy.
|Gluten Free Streusel Crumble Coffee Cake|
|Elsie's room in progress.|
|The owl on the slanting ceiling, the wind on the side wall. I should add that Clara added the white heart when she was trying to see how the primer would coat.|
|Ugh! The mountain of laundry that remains.|
|The one complete corner of John's new room|
|John's closet room|