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Reels and Spindles: A Story of Mill Life by Evelyn Raymond - Free Ebook
Write a product review. Get to Know Us. Delivery and Returns see our delivery rates and policies thinking of returning an item? The adventure which had been fascinating was fast becoming frightful. Clinging desperately to the undergrowth, she managed to move her head and look down. Far below in the ravine somebody was waving a white cloth. She was too terrified to speak; yet, after the salute had reached her several times, she dared to loose one hand and wave a returning signal.
As "holding on" was all that either Amy or Pepita could do just then, they obeyed, perforce; although, presently, the burro had scrambled to a narrow ledge, whence she could see the whole descent and from which, if left to herself, she would doubtless have found a way into the valley. They clung and waited for so long that the girl grew confused; then tried to rally her own courage by addressing the "Californian.
If that man doesn't come soon, I shall surely fall. My fingers ache so, and I'm slipping. I — am — slipping! Fortunately, her rescuer was near. He had worked his way upward on all fours, his bare feet clinging securely where shoe-soles would have been useless. He approached without noise, save of breaking twigs, until he was close beside them, when Pepita concluded it was time to bid him welcome.
Also startled, Amy lost her hold and shot downward straight into the arms of the stranger, who seized her, croaking in her ear: Then, with a strong grasp of her clothing, he wriggled himself sidewise along the bank to a spot where the rock gave place to earth and shrubs. The girl might have screamed, but she had no time. Instantly, she was again sliding downward, with an ever-increasing momentum, toward apparent destruction, yet landing finally upon a safe and mossy place; past which, for a brief space, the otherwhere rough stream flowed placidly.
She caught the hum of happy insects and the moist sweet odor of growing ferns, then heard another rush and tumble. But she was as yet too dazed to look up or realize fresh peril, before Pepita and the other stood beside her. Amy struggled to her feet. She had never heard a voice like that, which began a sentence with mighty volume and ended it in a whisper. She stared at the owner curiously, and with a fresh fear. His physique was as grotesque as his attire; which consisted of a white oilskin blouse, gayly bordered with the national colors, trousers of the most aggressive blue, and a helmet-shaped hat, adorned by a miniature battle-axe, while a tiny broom was strapped upon his shoulders.
It was "Presidential year," and Amy began to understand, not only that the lad before her was a "natural," but, presumably, that he had been made the victim of village wit. She had heard of the "marching bands," and inferred that the strange dress of her rescuer was made up by fragments from rival political uniforms. I drag the gun carriage. That's on account o' my strength.
Look a' there for an arm! I'll show you all right if you'll let me ride your donkey. A puzzled and angry expression came over the youth's face as he looked toward the burro, who had already begun to make hay for herself out of the lush grasses bordering the Ardsley. The lad scrutinized her dress and gazed abstractedly upon the white "Californian. Amy's simple white flannel frock, with its scarlet sash, and the scarlet cap upon her dark curls, suggested only another "uniform.
Neither did they ride upon white donkeys. Yet a donkey of venerable and unhappy appearance did nightly help to swell the ranks of the country's patriots, and the beast which he knew enjoyed a sort of honor: Pepita now took share in the conversation. Ah-umph — u-m-ph — ah-umph — umph — mph — ph — h-h-h! Never was a remark more felicitous. The lad threw himself down on the grass, laughing boisterously. Amy joined, in natural reaction from her former fear, and even the "Californian" helped on the fun by observing them with an absurdly injured expression.
If you like that kind of music, you should hear their duet about breakfast time.
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Which is the shortest way to some real road? They are so very, very lovely I'd like to take them home to put in father's studio. Maybe you know him. He is always discovering original people. The speech was out before she realized that it was not especially flattering. Her father liked novel models, and she had imagined how her new acquaintance would look as a "study.
Catalog Record: Reels and spindles : a story of mill life | Hathi Trust Digital Library
We live at Fairacres. It has been our home, our family's home, for two hundred years. You don't look it. An' you needn't get mad, if it has. I ain't made you mad, have I? I'd like to ride that critter. I'd like to, first rate. You get on her back and show me which way to go, and I'll try to make her behave well.
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I have some sugar left. See, Pepita, pretty Pepita! Smell what's in my fingers, amiable.
Then follow me, and we'll see what — we shall see. For the girl knew that the "Californian" would pursue the enticing titbit to the sweetest end. Yet this end seemed long in coming. For more than a mile their path lay close to the water's edge, through bogs and upon rocks, over rough and smooth, with the bluff rising steeply on their right and the stream preventing their crossing to the farm lands on its left. But at length they emerged upon a wider level and a view that was worth walking far to see.
Here the lad dismounted. He was so much too large for the beast he bestrode that he had been obliged to hold his feet up awkwardly, while riding. Besides, deep in his clouded heart there had arisen a desire to please this girl who so pleased him. If you like leaves, there's some that's pretty," he said, pointing upward toward a brilliant branch, hanging far out above the stream. We can get on faster now; and tell me, please, what are all those buildings yonder?
How picturesque they look, clustered amid the trees on the river's bank. Her answer was a rustle overhead. She fancied that a squirrel could not have climbed more swiftly; for, glancing up, she discovered the witless youth already upon the projecting branch, moving toward its slender tips, which swayed beneath his weight, threatening instant breakage.
Below him roared the rapids, hurrying to dash over the great dam not many yards away. You just ought to see what I can do. That's prettier than any. Yonder's a yellow-robin's nest. I'll get it for you! Amy shut her eyes that she might not see; though she could not but hear the snapping of boughs, the yell, and the heavy splash which followed. Amy ventured to open her eyes. There, dripping and grinning, evidently enjoying the fright he had given her, stood her strange new acquaintance. His hand still clutched the scarlet branch with its swinging nest that he had risked his safety to secure, nor would relinquish for so trivial a matter as a fall into the water.
He stared at her in genuine surprise; all the gayety of his expression giving place to disappointment. It's beautiful, and I thank you, of course. But I want to get home. You must show me the way. So they piled the branches upon the back of the dumbly protesting "Californian," Amy retaining the delicate nest and gently shaking the water from it. Shaking her body viciously, but unable to rid herself of her brilliant burden, the burro started swiftly along the footpath running toward the distant buildings, and over the little bridge that crossed just there.
Both path and bridge were worn smooth by the feet of the operatives from the mills, which interested Amy more and more, the nearer she approached them. Once or twice, on some rare outing among the hills where her home lay, she had caught glimpses of their roofs and chimneys, and she remembered to have asked some questions about them; but her father had answered her so indifferently, even shortly, that she had learned little. Seen from this point they impressed her by contrast to all she had ever known.
There was a whirl and stir of life about them that excited and thrilled her. Through the almost numberless windows, wide open to the air, she could see hundreds of busy people moving to and fro, in a sort of a rhythmic measure with the pulsating engines. As yet she did not know what these engines were. She heard the mighty beat and rumble, regular, unchanging, like a gigantic heart of which this many-storied structure was the enclosing body; and she slowly advanced, fascinated, and quite heedless of some staring eyes which regarded her curiously from those wide windows.
A discontented bray and the touch of a hand upon her shoulder suddenly recalled her, to observe that she had reached the bottom of a steep stairway, and was face to face with another stranger. I am here by accident. I was lost on the river bank, a long distance back, and a strange lad helped me so far.
I don't see him now, and I'm rather frightened about him, for he fell into the water, getting me this nest. He doesn't act just like other people, I think. He has run up into the street above us, yet even he knew better than to have brought you just here," and he glanced significantly toward a large sign of "No Admittance. Gazing about, her perplexity became almost distress; for she found herself shut in a little space by buildings of varying heights. Behind her lay the difficult route over which she had come, and on the east uprose a steep bank or bluff.
Against this was placed a nearly perpendicular sort of ladder, and this steep stair was the only visible outlet from the ravine. I fancy you could easily climb it, as do our own mill girls; but this pretty beast of yours, with the fanciful burden, how about him? Well, I have great faith in girls, even girl donkeys, as well as in those who own them. There will certainly be a way out; if not up the bank, then through the mill. By the by, if you've never visited such a place, and have come to it 'by accident,' wouldn't you like to go through it now?
I'm the superintendent, William Metcalf, and am just about to make my rounds, before we shut down for the night. I'd be pleased to show you about, though we must first find a safe place where we can tie your donkey.
She looks very intelligent. She's the dearest burro. She and her brother Balaam were sent to my brother and me from California. Her name is Pepita, and I am Amy Kaye. I live at Fairacres. At this announcement the gentleman looked as if he were about to whistle, though courtesy prevented. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll find something with which to tie the burro. Having them on her back frets her. Pepita did not endorse this opinion.
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In the matter of tying she gave them all the trouble she could, and allowed them to depart only after a most indignant bray.