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Howells, William Dean, 1837-1920

"The Rise of Silas Lapham"

I'll go
that far. And I think I wouldn't be sorry for it beforehand,
if I were in your place, mother. Let the Colonel go on! He
likes to manoeuvre, and he isn't going to hurt any one.
The Corey family can take care of themselves, I guess."
She laughed in her throat, drawing down the corners
of her mouth, and enjoying the resolution with which her
mother tried to fling off the burden of her anxieties.
"Pen! I believe you're right. You always do see things
in such a light! There! I don't care if he brings him
down every day."
"Well, ma'am," said Pen, "I don't believe
'Rene would, either. She's just so indifferent!"
The Colonel slept badly that night, and in the morning
Mrs. Lapham came to breakfast without him.
"Your father ain't well," she reported. "He's had one
of his turns."
"I should have thought he had two or three of them,"
said Penelope, "by the stamping round I heard. Isn't he
coming to breakfast?"
"Not just yet," said her mother. "He's asleep,
and he'll be all right if he gets his nap out.
I don't want you girls should make any great noise."
"Oh, we'll be quiet enough," returned Penelope.
"Well, I'm glad the Colonel isn't sojering. At first I
thought he might be sojering." She broke into a laugh,
and, struggling indolently with it, looked at her sister.
"You don't think it'll be necessary for anybody to come
down from the office and take orders from him while he's
laid up, do you, mother?" she inquired.


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