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Wednesday, 5-Sep-2012 22:49 Email | Share | | Bookmark
135 Women haven't TomsTiny

Women haven't any place in politics. They would lose alltheir daintiness and charm if they became involved in these horried plots and logrolling and all thisawful political stuff about scandal and personalities and so on.&quot; All save one nodded. They interrupted the formal businessmeeting to discuss Mrs. Edgar Potbury's husband, Mrs. Potbury's income, Mrs. Toms Tiny
Potbury'ssedan, Mrs. Potbury's residence, Mrs. Potbury's oratorical style, Mrs. Potbury's mandarin eveningcoat, Mrs. Potbury's coiffure, and Mrs. Potbury's altogether reprehensible influence on the StateFederation of Women's Clubs. toms shoe store Before the program committee adjourned they took three minutes to decide which of thesubjects suggested by the magazine Culture Hints, Furnishings and China, or The Bible asLiterature, would be better for the coming year. There was one annoying incident. Mrs. Dr.Kennicott interfered and showed off again. She commented, &quot;Don't you think that we already getenough of the Bible in our churches and Sunday Schools?&quot; Mrs. toms shoes coupon
Leonard Warren, somewhat out of order but much more out of temper, cried, &quot;Well uponmy word! I didn't suppose there was any one who felt that we could get enough of the Bible! Iguess if the Grand Old Book has withstood the attacks of infidels for these two thousand years it isworth our slight consideration!&quot; &quot;Oh, I didn't mean &quot; Carol begged. Inasmuch as she did mean, it was hard to be extremelylucid. &quot;But I wish, instead of limiting ourselves either to the Bible, or to anecdotes about theBrothers Adam's wigs, which Culture Hints seems to regard as the significant point about furniture,we could study some of the really stirring ideas that are springing up today whether it's chemistryor anthropology or labor problems the things that are going to mean so terribly much.&quot; Everybody cleared her polite throat. Madam Chairman inquired, &quot;Is there any other discussion? Will some one make a motion toadopt the suggestion of Vida Sherwin to take up Furnishings and China?&quot; It was adopted, unanimously. &quot;Checkmate!&quot; murmured Carol, as she held up her hand.

Tuesday, 4-Sep-2012 22:44 Email | Share | | Bookmark
128 It was furnished tomsshoeswomen

It was furnished on two principles: First, everything must resemblesomething else. A rocker had a back like a lyre, a nearleather seat imitating tufted cloth, and armslike Scotch Presbyterian lions; with knobs, scrolls, shields, and spearpoints on unexpected portionsof the chair. The second principle of the crammedVictorian school was that every inch of theinterior must be filled with useless objects. The walls of Mrs. Cass's parlor were plastered with &quot;handpainted&quot; pictures, &quot;buckeye&quot; pictures,of birchtrees, newsboys, puppies, and churchsteeples on Christmas Eve; with a plaque depictingthe Exposition Building in Minneapolis, burntwood portraits of Indian chiefs of no tribe inparticular, a pansydecked poetic motto, a Yard of Roses, and the banners of the educationalinstitutions attended by the Casses' two sons Chicopee Falls Business College and McGilllcuddyUniversity. One small square table contained a cardreceiver of painted china with a rim of wroughtand gilded lead, a Family Bible, Grant's Memoirs, the latest novel by Mrs. toms shoes women
Gene Stratton Porter, awooden model of a Swiss chalet which was also a bank for dimes, a polished abalone shell holdingone blackheaded pin and one empty spool, a velvet pincushion in a gilded metal slipper with&quot;Souvenir of Troy, N. Y.&quot; stamped on the toe, and an unexplained red glass dish which had warts. Mrs. Cass's first remark was, &quot;I must show you all my pretty things and art objects.&quot; She piped, after Carol's appeal: &quot;I see. Toms Youth You think the New England villages and Colonial houses are so much more cunning thanthese Middlewestern towns. I'm glad you feel that way. You'll be interested to know I was born inVermont.&quot; &quot;And don't you think we ought to try to make Gopher Prai &quot; &quot;My gracious no! We can't afford it. Taxes are much too high as it is. We ought to retrench, andnot let the city council spend another cent. toms shoe store
Uh Don't you think that was a grand paper Mrs.Westlake read about Tolstoy? I was so glad she pointed out how all his silly socialistic ideas failed.&quot; What Mrs. Cass said was what Kennicott said, that evening.Not in twenty years would the council propose or Gopher Prairie vote the funds for a new city hall.V Carol had avoided exposing her plans to Vida Sherwin.

Monday, 3-Sep-2012 22:47 Email | Share | | Bookmark
121 From Kennicott TomsLastChance

From Kennicott she discovered that it waslegally organized with a mayor and citycouncil and wards. She was delighted by the simplicity ofvoting one's self a metropolis. Why not? She was a proud and patriotic citizen, all evening.II She examined the city hall, next morning. She had remembered it only as a bleakinconspicuousness. She found ita livercolored frame coop half a block from Main Street. Toms Last Chance
The front was an unrelieved wall ofclapboards and dirty windows. It had an unobstructed view of a vacant lot and Nat Hicks's tailorshop. It was larger than the carpenter shop beside it, but not so well built. No one was about. She walked into the corridor. On one side was the municipal court, like acountry school; on the other, the room of the volunteer fire company, with a Ford hosecart and theornamental helmets used in parades, at the end of the hall, a filthy twocell jail, now empty butsmelling of ammonia and ancient sweat. The whole second story was a large unfinished roomlittered with piles of folding chairs, a limecrusted mortarmixing box, and the skeletons of Fourthof July floats covered with decomposing plaster shields and faded red, white, and blue bunting. Atthe end was an abortive stage. The room was large enough for the community dances which Mrs.Nat Hicks advocated. But Carol was after something bigger than dances. In the afternoon she scampered to the public library. Toms New Styles
The library was open three afternoons and four evenings a week. It was housed in an olddwelling, sufficient but unattractive. Carol caught herself picturing pleasanter readingrooms, chairsfor children, an art collection, a librarian young enough to experiment. She berated herself, &quot;Stop this fever of reforming everything! I will be satisfied with the library!The city hall is enough for a beginning. And it's really an excellent library. It's it isn't so bad.

Sunday, 2-Sep-2012 22:50 Email | Share | | Bookmark
114 She remembered tomsshoestore

She remembered that he was the sort ofperson who chewed tobacco. She glared, while he uneasily petitioned, &quot;That's great stuff. Study itin college? I like poetry fine James Whitcomb Riley and some of Longfellow this `Hiawatha.'Gosh, I wish I could appreciate that highbrow art stuff. But I guess I'm too old a dog to learn newtricks.&quot; With pity for his bewilderment, and a certain desire to giggle, she consoled him, &quot;Then let's trysome Tennyson. toms shoe store
You've read him?&quot; &quot;Tennyson? You bet. Read him in school. There's that:And let there be no (what is it?) of farewellWhen I put out to sea,But let the Well, I don't remember all of it but Oh, sure! And there's that `I met a little country boywho ' I don't remember exactly how it goes, but the chorus ends up, `We are seven.' &quot; &quot;Yes. Well Shall we try `The Idylls of the King?' They're so full of color.&quot; &quot;Go to it. toms shoes women Shoot.&quot; But he hastened to shelter himself behind a cigar. She was not transported to Camelot. She read with an eye cocked on him, and when she sawhow much he was suffering she ran to him, kissed his forehead, cried, &quot;You poor forced tuberosethat wants to be a decent turnip!&quot; &quot;Look here now, that ain't &quot; &quot;Anyway, I sha'n't torture you any longer.&quot; She could not quite give up. She read Kipling, with a great deal of emphasis:There's a REGIMENT aCOMING down theGRAND Trunk ROAD. Toms Herringbone
He tapped his foot to the rhythm; he looked normal and reassured. But when he complimentedher, &quot;That was fine. I don't know but what you can elocute just as good as Ella Stowbody,&quot; shebanged the book and suggested that they were not too late for the nine o'clock show at the movies. That was her last effort to harvest the April wind, to teach divine unhappiness by acorrespondence course, to buy the lilies of Avalon and the sunsets of Cockaigne in tin cans at OleJenson's Grocery. But the fact is that at the motionpictures she discovered herself laughing as heartily asKennicott at the humor of an actor who stuffed spaghetti down a woman's evening frock. For asecond she loathed her laughter; mourned for the day when on her hill by the Mississippi she hadwalked the battlements with queens.

Friday, 31-Aug-2012 22:48 Email | Share | | Bookmark
107 A man of tomsshoeswomen

A man of eighty waspicking up lumps of coal along the railroad. She did not know what to do about it. She felt that these independent citizens, who had beentaught that they belonged to a democracy, would resent her trying to play Lady Bountiful. She lost her loneliness in the activity of the village industries the railroadyards with afreighttrain switching, the wheatelevator, oiltanks, a slaughterhouse with bloodmarks on thesnow, the creamery with the sleds of farmers and piles of milkcans, an unexplained stone hutlabeled "Danger. Powder Stored Here." The jolly tombstoneyard, where a utilitarian sculptor in ared calfskin overcoat whistled as hehammered the shiniest of granite headstones. toms shoes women
Jackson Elder's small planingmill, with the smell offresh pine shavings and the burr of circular saws. Most important, the Gopher Prairie Flour and Milling Company, Lyman, Cass president. Its windows were blanketed with flourdust, but it wasthe most stirring spot in town. Workmen were wheeling barrels of flour into a boxcar; a farmersitting on sacks of wheat in a bobsled argued with the wheatbuyer; machinery within the millboomed and whined, water gurgled in the icefreed millrace. The clatter was a relief to Carol after months of smug houses. She wished that she could workin the mill; that she did not belong to the caste of professionalman'swife. Toms Campus Classics She started for home, through the small slum. Before a tarpaper shack, at a gateless gate, a manin rough brown dogskin coat and black plush cap with lappets was watching her. His square facewas confident, his foxy mustache was picaresque. He stood erect, his hands in his sidepockets, hispipe puffing slowly. He was fortyfive orsix, perhaps. "How do, Mrs. Toms Classics
Kennicott," he drawled. She recalled him the town handyman, who had repaired their furnace at the beginning ofwinter. "Oh, how do you do," she fluttered. "My name 's Bjornstam. `The Red Swede' they call me. Remember? Always thought I'd kind oflike to say howdy to you again.

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