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Pansy, 1841-1930

"Tip Lewis and His Lamp"

The table was set for
tea, the white cloth showing just the folds in which it was ironed; there
were three plates and three cups and saucers, instead of two, while
Kitty, in her restless wanderings around the room, and Mrs. Lewis, in her
frequent glances out of the window, both showed that somebody was being
watched and waited for.
"The eastern train is in," Kitty said finally "Now, if he comes
to-night, he'll be here in three minutes." And it could not have been
much more than that when a quick, crushing step was heard on the gravel
outside, then on the plank before the door, then the door swung open,
and Edward Lewis walked into the little room out of which he had gone
three years before.
Kitty was all ready to spring forward, say, "Oh, Tip!" and throw her arms
right around his neck. Instead, she stood still. Some way, in spite of
the long letters which had passed between them during these years, Kitty
had fully expected to see a stout, tanned boy, in a strong, coarse suit
of grey, with thick boots and a new straw hat.


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