Dove, my only love, even fourteen years comes to an
end somehow, and when we meets again we'll make a rule for there being
no attic lodgers."
"To the very end his was a poetic turn," his wife afterwards remarked
to her favorite cronies.
CHAPTER XLVII.
ALMOST DEFEATED.
With the weight of her secret removed Daisy began slowly, very slowly,
to mend. The strain she had undergone had been too great for her
quickly to recover her strength; but little by little a faint color
did return to her white cheeks, she slept more peacefully, and began
to eat again.
"There's nothing at all for you to do, Miss Primrose," said Hannah,
"but to give up that post of continually screaming out book and
newspaper stuff to a deaf old lady."
"She isn't deaf, Hannah," interrupted Primrose. "She wants me to read
to her because her sight is very bad."
"Well, well," replied Hannah Martin, in a testy tone, "whether she's
deaf or whether she's blind, it ain't no way a fit post for you, Miss
Primrose. You've got to stay here now, and take care of that precious
little lamb, and you had better send for Miss Jasmine to keep you
company."
"I am certainly not going to leave Daisy at present," replied
Primrose.
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