"
"But--but how uncertain!" gasped Miss Belinda: "I should be perfectly
miserable. Poor, dear Mar"--
"Oh, no, you wouldn't!" said Octavia: "you'd get used to it, and wouldn't
mind much, particularly if you were lucky as father is. There is every
thing in being lucky, and knowing how to manage. When we first went to
Bloody Gulch"--
"My dear!" cried Miss Belinda, aghast. "I--I beg of you"--
Octavia stopped short: she gazed at Miss Belinda in bewilderment, as she
had done several times before.
"Is any thing the matter?" she inquired placidly.
"My dear love," explained Miss Belinda innocently, determined at least to
do her duty, "it is not customary in--in Slowbridge,--in fact, I think I
may say in England,--to use such--such exceedingly--I don't want to wound
your feelings, my dear,--but such exceedingly strong expressions! I
refer, my dear, to the one which began with a B. It is really considered
profane, as well as dreadful beyond measure."
"'The one which began with a B,'" repeated Octavia, still staring at her.
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