I am a dancing girl

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zoom RSS from now till tomorrow morning

<<   作成日時 : 2017/01/13 15:39   >>

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On both their mother’s and theirfather’s side they were Georgians, north Georgians, only a generation away from pioneers. Theywere sure international school in hong kongof themselves and of their environment. They knew instinctively what they were about,as did the Wilkeses, though in widely divergent ways, and in them there was no such conflict asfrequently raged in Scarlett’s bosom where the blood of a soft-voiced, overbred Coast aristocratmingled with the shrewd, earthy blood of an Irish peasant. Scarlett wanted to respect and adore hermother like an idol and to rumple her hair and tease her too. And she knew she should bealtogether one way or the other. It was the same conflicting emotion that made her desire to appeara delicate and high-bred lady with boys and to be, as well, a hoyden who was not above a fewkisses.
“Where’s Ellen this morning?” asked Mrs. Tarleton.
“She’s after discharging our overseer and stayed home to go over the accounts with him.
Where’s himself and the lads?”
“Oh, they rode over to Twelve Oaks hours ago―to sample the punch and see if it was strongenough, I dare say, as if they wouldn’t have to do it! I’m studio for rentgoing toask John Wilkes to keep them overnight, even if he has to bed them down in the stable. Five menin their cups are just too much for me. Up to three, I do very well but―”
Gerald hastily interrupted to change the subject He could feel his own daughters snickeringbehind his back as they remembered in what condition he had come home from the Wilkeses’ lastbarbecue the autumn before.
“And why aren’t you riding today, Mrs. Tarleton? Sure, you don’t look yourself at all withoutNellie. It’s a stentor, you are.”
“A stentor, me ignorant broth of a boy!” cried Mrs. Tarleton, aping his brogue. “You mean acentaur. Stentor was a man with a voice like a brass gong.”
“Stentor or centaur, ‘tis no matter,” answered Gerald, unruffled by his error. “And ‘tis a voicelike brass you have, Ma’m, when you’re urging on the hounds, so it is.”
“That’s one on you, Ma,” said Hetty. “I told you you yelled like a Comanche whenever you sawa fox.”
“But not as loud as you yell when Mammy washes your ears,” returned Mrs. Tarleton. “And yousixteen! Well, as to why I’m not riding today, Nellie foaled early this morning.”
“Did she now!” cried Gerald with real interest, his Irishman’s passion for horses shining in hiseyes, and Scarlett again felt the sense of shock in comparing her mother with Mrs. Tarleton. ToEllen, mares never foaled nor cows calved. In fact, hens almost didn’t lay eggs. Ellen ignored thesematters, completely. But Mrs. Tarleton had no such reticences.
“A little filly, was it?”
“No, a fine little stallion with legs two yards long. You must ride over and see him, Mr. O’Hara.
He’s a real Tarleton horse. He’s as red as Hetty’s curls.”

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