Too bad, isn't it, blessed--but I must go.

Here, boy"-- this to the messenger, who was moving out of the door--"stop at the livery stable as you go by and tell them I won't want the horse and wagon, that I'm going to New York.

All in a life-time, my blessed--but I'm dreadfully sorry." "And you MUST go?
Isn't it mean, Jack--and it's such a lovely day." "Yes--but it can't be helped.

What are you going to do with the sandwiches and chicken and things?
And you had so much trouble making them.

And you will be lonely, too." "Why, I shall keep them till you come back, and we'll have a lovely feast at home," she said with a light laugh in her effort to hide her feelings.