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Crowley, Mary Catherine

"Apples, Ripe and Rosy, Sir"

He listened
dutifully, as if he were the sole transgressor; but interrupted the
homily now and then by lapping the hand of his little mistress with his
tiny red tongue, as a token of the perfect understanding between them.
When they looked up and saw Joan, both glanced at her deprecatingly,
but quite ready to assume a defensive attitude. Ashamed of having
allowed her indignation to carry her so far, she was, however, inclined
to be conciliatory; and therefore, with an effort, managed to say, as
if nothing had happened:
"Come, Tilderee! Watch at the window for father, while I get dinner
ready."
Tilderee at once sprang to her feet gaily, threw her arms around Joan's
waist, and held up her rosy mouth for the kiss of mutual forgiveness,
Fudge wriggling and wagging his tail.
Joan now busied herself about the mid-day meal, for which her mother
had made the principal preparation before setting out. She said
nothing about the tragedy of the morning when her father came in,
partly because she felt that nobody could appreciate the depth of her
grief but mother, and because she had made up her mind not to complain
of Tilderee,--a conclusion which she secretly felt entitled her to rank
as a heroine.


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