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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Eben Holden, a tale of the north country"

There was a great glow
of health and beauty in Hope's face. It was a bit fuller but had
nobler outlines and a colouring as delicate as ever. She wore a
plain grey gown admirably fitted to her plump figure. There was a
new and splendid 'dignity in her carriage, her big blue eyes, her
nose with its little upward slant. She was now the well groomed
young woman of society in the full glory of her youth.
Uncle Eb who sat between us pinched her cheek playfully. A little
spot of white showed a moment where his fingers had been. Then
the pink flooded over it.
'Never see a girl git such a smack as you did,' he said laughing.
'Well,' said she, smiling, 'I guess I gave as good as I got.'
'Served him right,' he said. 'You kissed back good 'n hard. Gran
sport!' he added turning to me.
'Best I ever had,' was my humble acknowledgement.
'Seldom ever see a girl kissed so powerful,' he said as he took Hope
hand in his. 'Now if the Bible said when a body kissed ye on one
cheek ye mus' turn if other I wouldn't find no fault.


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