Quotes from Alice B. Emerson

In spite of the surprises and anxieties and responsibilities of living, this was rather a nice world.

In spite of the surprises and anxieties and responsibilities of living, this was rather a nice world.

It was a single word-- a word smeared across the rag in shaking, uneven letters: "HELP!" "By George!" exclaimed one of the brakemen. "The little girl's right. That spells 'Help!' plain enough." "It-- it is written in something red, sir," cried Ruth, her voice trembling. "See! It is blood!

she was crooning to herself: "Oh, my back and oh, my bones ! Oh, my back and oh, my bones!

The rain could not last forever; Nature must cease weeping some time. Just as girls, far away from their old homes and their old friends, must cease wetting their pillows with regretful tears after a time, and look forward to the new interests and new friends to which they have come.

And how do you get on?" she added, lowering her voice. "How about the Ogre?" "He has not ground me into bread-flour yet," responded Ruth, smiling.

they were dashing off upon the track over which they had so recently come-- on the road down the valley with the flood following fast behind them.

How much schoolin' do you want?" he demanded, harshly. "If you please Uncle Jabez, all I can get," replied Ruth.

It's always nicer, I think, to be a big frog in a little puddle than to be an unrecognised croaker in a great, big pool.

And that most nice things are the result of hard work? The sweet from the bitter, you know.

There, child!" cried Aunt Alvirah, "ye haven't eaten enough breakfast to keep a fly alive.

But Ruth was the kind of a person who, in attempting a thing, did her very best to accomplish it.

The hymn of greeting rose in mournful cadence: "Freshie! Freshie! How-de-do! We're all waiting here for you. Hold your head up! Square each shoulder! Thrust your chest out! Do look bolder! Mamma's precious—papa's man— Keep the tears back if you can. Sob! Sob! Sob! It's an awful job— Freshie's leaving home and mo-o-ther!

Oh! a real ghost story!" cried Helen. "Do let's hear it.

Instantly two of the girls seized her and, as she involuntarily opened her lips to scream, one thrust a ball of clean rags into her mouth, thrusting it in so far that it effectually gagged her, nor could she expel the ball from her mouth.

Your doom awaits you.

But Uncle Jabez was short on conversation-- he seemed to have hoarded that up, too, and was unable to get at his stores of small-talk.