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Daviess, Maria Thompson, 1872-1924

"Phyllis"

I hope I never will go one step out of Byrdsville
as long as I live, though Roxanne has planned trips to every corner of
the world for us as soon as the Idol has finished this next invention.
The Byrds have to stay in the cottage until Father can build another
house for us to move into. Of course they will go back to Byrd Mansion
and reign in it as they have always done. But I smile to myself that
one person got ahead of that stiff-necked old portrait--I did, and
once she even seemed to smile down on me.
This was the time she seemed to do it. We had all been talking about
the plans for the new house down in the orchard, for Father and me,
when Roxanne had to fly to Lovelace Peyton and Father tiptoed after
her just to peep at him a second. That left the Idol and me alone for
a few minutes. How I would have shuddered at the mere thought of such
a thing happening to me a few months ago, but now it just seemed
agreeable happiness. Through suffering I have grown bold, in my
adoration of him.
"Let him build his old house, Phyllis," he said with first a glance up
at the old Grandmother Byrd and then one at me that was as bashful as
I began all suddenly to feel again, when he took my hand in his.


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