File:Chantry House (1889) (14770528094).jpg

Chantry House by Charlotte Yonge illustrated by W. J. Hennessy. (J. Coopper Sc.)

Identifier: chantryhouse00yongrich (find matches)
Title: Chantry House
Year: 1889 (1880s)
Authors: Yonge, Charlotte Mary, 1823-1901
Subjects:
Publisher: London : Macmillan and co.
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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f hair fell on the shoulderof the low-cut white-satin dress, done in very heavygray shading. The three girls came down together,and I asked who the lady was. Dont you know ? You ought; for that is poorMargaret who married your ancestor. No more was said then, for the rest of the worldwas collecting, and then everybody went out theirseveral ways. Some tin tacks were wanted for thedolls house, and there were reports that Wattleseapossessed a dolls grate and fire-irons. The childrenwere wild to go in quest of them, but they were notallowed to go alone, and it was pronounced too farand too damp for the elder sister, so that theywould have been disappointed, if Clarence—stimu-lated by Martyns kicks under the table—had notoffered to be their escort. When Mrs. Fordycedemurred, my mother replied, * You may perfectlytrust her with Clarence. * Yes ; I dont know a safer squire, rejoined myfather. Commendation was so rare that Clarence quiteblushed witli pleasure ; and the pretty little thing
Text Appearing After Image:
That is poor Margaret who married your ancestor.—p. 154. XVIII.) THE PORTRAIT. 155 was given into his charge, prancing and dancing withpleasure, and expecting much more from sixpence andfrom Wattlesea than was likely to be fulfilled. Griff went out shooting, and the two young ladiesand I intended to spend a very rational morning inthe bookroom, reading aloud Mme. de La Eochejaque-leins Memoirs by turns. Our occupations were, onEmilys part, completing a reticule, in a mosaic ofshaded coloured beads no bigger than pins heads,for a Christmas gift to mamma—a most wearisomebusiness, of which she had grown extremely tired.Miss Fordyce was elaborately copying our Miillersprint of Eaffaelles St. John in pencil on cardboard,so as to be as near as possible a facsimile; and shehad trusted me to make a finished water-coloureddrawing from a rough sketch of hers of the Hillsidebarn and farm-buildings, now no more. In a pause Ellen Fordyce suddenly asked,What did you mean about that picture V On

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