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Hill, Grace Livingston, 1865-1947

"The Girl from Montana"


"Me? What would I ride? Have to ride a counter, I guess. I guess you won't
find much to ride here in the city, 'cept trolley-cars."
"Bessie's got a horse. He's out in the yard now," said the grandmother
with pride.
"A horse! All your own? Gee whiz! Won't the girls stare when I tell them?
Say, we can borrow a rig at the livery some night, and take a ride. Dan'll
go with us, and get the rig for us. Won't that be great?"
Elizabeth smiled. She felt the glow of at last contributing something to
the family pleasure. She did not wish her coming to be so entirely a wet
blanket as it had seemed at first; for, to tell the truth, she had seen
blank dismay on the face of each separate relative as her identity had
been made known. Her heart was lonely, and she hungered for some one who
"belonged" and loved her.
Supper was put on the table, and the two girls began to get a little
acquainted, chattering over clothes and the arrangement of hair.
"Do you know whether there is anything in Philadelphia called 'Christian
Endeavor'?" asked Elizabeth after the supper-table was cleared off.
"O, Chrishun'deavor! Yes, I used t' b'long," answered Lizzie. She had
removed the gum from her mouth while she ate her supper, but now it was
busy again between sentences. "Yes, we have one down to our church. It was
real interesting, too; but I got mad at one of the members, and quit. She
was a stuck-up old maid, anyway. She was always turning round and scowling
at us girls if we just whispered the least little bit, or smiled; and one
night she was leading the meeting, and Jim Forbes got in a corner behind a
post, and made mouths at her behind his book.


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