Where's Nora? Page #2

"Where's Nora?" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a charming children's story that captures the whimsical adventures of a young girl named Nora. Set in a quaint village, the narrative unfolds as Nora disappears, prompting her friends and family to search for her. Through vivid illustrations and engaging text, the book explores themes of curiosity, friendship, and the importance of community, all while inviting readers to join in the delightful quest to find Nora. Jewett's storytelling shines with warmth and simplicity, making it a delightful read for young audiences.

• Short story

								

old-fashioned thorn sticks.  Me own is one o' them sticks a man 'd
carry tin years and toss it into a brook at the ind an' not miss it."

"They 're good thorn sticks, the both of them," said Mike complacently.
"I don't know 'ill I bring 'em out before she comes."

"Is she a pritty slip of a gerrl, I d' know?" asked Patrick, with
increased interest.

"She ain't, then," answered his companion frankly.  "She does be thin
as a young grasshopper, and she 's red-headed, and she 's freckled,
too, from the sea, like all them young things comin' over; but she 's
got a pritty voice, like all her mother's folks, and a quick eye like a
bird's.  The old-country talk's fresh in her mouth, too, so it is; you
'd think you were coming out o' mass some spring morning at home and
hearing all the girls whin they'd be chatting and funning at the boys.
I do be thinking she's a smart little girl, annyway; look at her off to
see the town so early and not back yet, bad manners to her!  She 'll be
wanting some clothes, I suppose; she's very old-fashioned looking; they
does always be wanting new clothes, coming out," and Mike gave an
ostentatious sigh and suggestive glance at his brother-in-law.

"'Deed, I 'm willing to help her get a good start; ain't she me own
sister's shild?" agreed Patrick Quin cheerfully.  "We 've been young
ourselves, too.  Well, then, 'tis bad news of old Mary Donahoe bein'
gone at the farm.  I always thought if I 'd go home how I 'd go along
the fields to get the great welcome from her.  She was one that always
liked to hear folks had done well," and he looked down at his
comfortable, clean old clothes as if they but reminded him how poor a
young fellow he had come away.  "I 'm very sorry afther Mary; she was a
good 'oman, God save her!"

"Faix, it was time for her," insisted Mike, not without sympathy.
"Were you afther wanting her to live forever, the poor soul?  An' the
shild said she 'd the best funeral was ever in the parish of Dunkenny
since she remimbered it.  What could anny one ask more than that, and
she r'aching such an age, the cr'atur'!  Stop here awhile an' you 'll
hear all the tark from Nora; she told over to me all the folks that was
there.  Where has she gone wit' herself, I don't know?  Mary Ann!" he
turned his head toward the house and called in a loud, complaining
tone; "where's Nora, annyway?"

"Here's Nora, then," a sweet girlish voice made unexpected reply, and a
light young figure flitted from the sidewalk behind him and stood lower
down on the green bank.

"What's wanting wit' Nora?" and she stooped quickly like a child to
pick some of the dandelions as if she had found gold.  She had a sprig
of wild-cherry blossom in her dress, which she must have found a good
way out in the country.

"Come now, and speak to Patrick Quin, your mother's own brother, that's
waiting here for you all this time you 've been running over the
place," commanded Mr. Duffy, with some severity.

"An' is it me own Uncle Patsy, dear?" exclaimed Nora, with the sweetest
brogue and most affectionate sincerity.  "Oh, that me mother could see
him too!" and she dropped on her knees beside the lame little man and
kissed him, and knelt there looking at him with delight, holding his
willing hand in both her own.

"An' ain't you got me mother's own looks, too?  Oh, Uncle Patsy, is it
yourself, dear?  I often heard about you, and I brought you me mother's
heart's love, 'deed I did then!  It's many a lovely present of a pound
you 've sent us.  An' I 've got a thorn stick that grew in the hedge,
goin' up the little rise of ground above the Wishin' Brook, sir; mother
said you 'd mind the place well when I told you."

"I do then, me shild," said Patrick Quin, with dignity; "'tis manny the
day we all played there together, for all we 're so scattered now and
some dead, too, God rest them!  Sure, you 're a nice little gerrl, an'
I give you great welcome and the hope you 'll do well.  Come along wit'
me now.  Your Aunty Biddy's jealous to put her two eyes on you, an' we
never getting the news you 'd come till late this morning.  'I 'll go
fetch Nora for you,' says I, to contint her.  'They 'll be tarked out
at Duffy's by this time,' says I."

"Oh, I 'm full o' tark yet!" protested Nora gayly.  "Coom on, then,
Uncle Patsy!" and she gave him her strong young hand as he rose.

"An' how do you be likin' Ameriky?" asked the pleased old man, as they
walked along.

"I like Ameriky fine," answered the girl gravely.  She was taller than
he, though she looked so slender and so young.  "I was very
downhearted, too, l'avin' home and me mother, but I 'll go back to it
some day, God willing, sir; I could n't die wit'out seeing me mother
again.  I 'm all over the place here since daybreak.  I think I 'd like
work best on the railway," and she turned toward him with a resolved
and serious look.

"Wisha! there 's no work at all for a girl like you on the Road," said
Uncle Patsy patiently.  "You 've a bit to learn yet, sure; 't is the
mill you mane."

"There 'll be plinty work to do.  I always thought at home, when I
heard the folks tarking, that I 'd get work on the railway when I 'd
come to Ameriky.  Yis, indeed, sir!" continued Nora earnestly.  "I was
looking at the mills just now, and I heard the great n'ise from them.
I 'd never be afther shutting meself up in anny mill out of the good
air.  I 've no call to go to jail yet in thim mill walls.  Perhaps
there 'd be somebody working next me that I 'd never get to like, sir."

There was something so convinced and decided about these arguments that
Uncle Patsy, usually the calm autocrat of his young relatives, had
nothing whatever to say.  Nora was gently keeping step with his slow
gait.  She had won his heart once for all when she called him by the
old boyish name her mother used forty years before, when they played
together by the Wishing Brook.

"I wonder do you know a b'y named Johnny O'Callahan?" inquired Nora
presently, in a somewhat confidential tone; "a pritty b'y that's
working on the railway; I seen him last night and I coming here; he
ain't a guard at all, but a young fellow that minds the brakes.  We
stopped a long while out there; somethin' got off the rails, and he
adwised wit' me, seeing I was a stranger.  He said he knew you, sir."

"Oh, yes, Johnny O'Callahan.  I know him well; he 's a nice b'y, too,"
answered Patrick Quin approvingly.

"Yis, sir, a pritty b'y," said Nora, and her color brightened for an
instant, but she said no more.

II.

Mike Duffy and his wife came into the Quins' kitchen one week-day
night, dressed in their Sunday clothes; they had been making a visit to
their well-married daughter in Lawrence.  Patrick Quin's chair was
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