Three Little Women's Success - Jackson, G. E.
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The fact that nearly three years have slipped by since we last witnessed any of her prancings has not lessened her propensity to do so, for with nearly fourteen years numbered off upon her life's calendar Jean Carruth is as much of a romp as ever, full of impulses as she was upon the day she rescued old Baltie; as she was when she so valiantly defended her property and her rights against the hoodlums of McKimm's Hollow. ...When three years before, Hadyn Stuyvesant, the owner of the property rented by the Carruths, had followed out Constance Carruth's plans for a model kitchen in which she…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
The fact that nearly three years have slipped by since we last witnessed any of her prancings has not lessened her propensity to do so, for with nearly fourteen years numbered off upon her life's calendar Jean Carruth is as much of a romp as ever, full of impulses as she was upon the day she rescued old Baltie; as she was when she so valiantly defended her property and her rights against the hoodlums of McKimm's Hollow. ...When three years before, Hadyn Stuyvesant, the owner of the property rented by the Carruths, had followed out Constance Carruth's plans for a model kitchen in which she could make her candy, he was not a little surprised at the sixteen-year-old girl's practical ideas. ...At length, when she felt the moment to be ripe, she suggested most tactfully that Mary come to live with them, to occupy the little room which had once been Mammy's, but, since her marriage to Charles, and her removal to the snug cottage adjoining the candy kitchen, had been newly decorated and furnished for what Jean, in her characteristic fashion, termed "the left-overs;" "left-overs" being any extra guest who might claim the hospitality of the family when the other guest room was occupied.
Autorenporträt
The afternoon was a wild one. All day driving sheets of rain had swept along the streets of Riveredge, hurled against windowpanes by fierce gusts of wind, or dashed in miniature rivers across piazzas. At noon it seemed as though the wind meant to change to the westward and the clouds break, but the promise of better weather had failed, and although the rain now fell only fitfully in drenching showers, and one could "run between the drops" the wind still blustered and fumed, tossing the wayfarers about, and tearing from the trees what foliage the rain had spared, to hurl it to the ground in sodden masses. It was more like a late November than a late September day, and had a depressing effect upon everybody. "I want to go out; I want to go out; I want to go out, out, OUT!" cried little Jean Carruth, pressing her face against the window-pane until from the outside her nose appeared like a bit of white paper stuck fast to the glass.