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Mitchell, S. Weir (Silas Weir), 1829-1914

"Westways"


"This is our last walk," she said, arranging the golden plumes. "There is
a white golden-rod; find me another, John."
He went away to the back of the cabin and returning threw in her lap a
half dozen. "Old Josiah says the blacks in the South think it is good
luck to find the first white golden-rod. Then, he says, you must have a
luck-wish. What shall it be? Come--quick now."
"Oh, I--don't know. Yes, I wish to have Lucy at that terrible
boarding-school."
John laughed. "Oh, Leila, is that the best you can do?"
"Yes, wish a wish for me, if mine doesn't suit."
Then he said, "I wish the school had small-pox and you had to stay at
Grey Pine."
"I didn't think you'd care as much as that. Aren't these flowers
beautiful? Wish me a real wish."
"Then, I wish that when we grow up you would marry me."
"Well, John, you are a silly." She took on an air of authoritative
reprimand. "Why, John, you are only a boy, but you ought to know better
than to talk such nonsense."
"And you," he said, "are just a little girl."
"Oh, I'm not so very little," returned Miss Grey.
"When I'm older, I shall ask you again; and if you say no, I'll ask
again--and--until--"
"What nonsense, John. Let's go home."
He rose flushed and troubled, and said, "Are you vexed, Leila?"
"No, of course not; but it was foolish of you.


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