The Last Report On the Miracles At Little No Horse
“Felled with an autumn fever, she had spent a week tossing in bed. To cure her weak dizziness, now, she was drinking a foul, but she hoped nutritious, soup prepared by Mary Kashpaw. There was cabbage in it, she noted, translucent shreds of onions, the neck of a chicken. She closed her eyes to take a sip. The sisters were wary of Mary Kashpaw; except for Hildegarde, they all believed she was dangerous and still advised the priest to be careful lest she attack. Agnes knew that she was endangered o...nly by the girl’s cooking, and she usually sent her out while she ate so that her reactions should not trouble Mary Kashpaw. Agnes had done just that and Mary Kashpaw was out in the yard, then, when the dog walked right in through the open window. A rangy thing, coal black and huge, he stood on the small table, front paw in the soup bowl. Agnes untucked the napkin from below her chin, and swatted at the dog. “Get!” she weakly cried, and then, through the glowing spots of a half-fainting weakness, she heard it answer.MoreLess
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