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"Maybe he 'as thrown the 'ooks into 'er. Who knows? It looks that w'y to me." "In any case," said Britton, gloom in his voice, "it's a most unhappy state of affairs. He's getting to be a perfect crank. Complines about everything I do. He won't 'ave 'is trousers pressed and he 'asn't been shaved since Monday." I stole away, rage in my soul. Or was it mortification?
Britton raised him to his feet and lifted him quickly out into the aisle, while his voice rang authoritatively through the court-room, "José Martinez, alias Walcott, I arrest you in the name of the State!" The man shouted something in Spanish, evidently a signal, for it was repeated in different parts of the room. Instantly all was confusion.
He drew forth several sets of extensive notes on researches and experiments he was making along various lines of study, in which Mr. Britton became at once deeply interested. "You have a good thing here; stick to it!" he said at length, looking up from the perusal of Darrell's geological notes, gathered from his studies of the rock formations in that vicinity.
Britton said to Darrell, as they seated themselves, "and there is little likelihood of your being recognized from this point." "There is little probability of the man's recognizing me, even if he is here," Darrell replied, "for he did not give me a second thought that night, and if he had, I am so changed he would not know me." "We cannot be too cautious," his father answered.
Britton, who was standing near, saying, as his face grew serious, "Dr. Bradley is right; I'm no invalid now, and I must quit this idling. I must find what I can do and go to work." "All in good time," said Mr. Britton, pleasantly. "We'll find something for you before I go from here. Meanwhile, I want to give you a little pleasure-trip if you are able to take it.
But it's Britton who has made the dinner. He's more fun than a Harlem goat with a hoopskirt. See him that's Brit with a red head and blue neck-tie. He's been all winter in Wisconsin looking after some iron work and has come back jam full of stories." The dignity of Peter's personality had evidently not impressed the young man, judging from the careless tone with which he addressed him.
Another partition with a door in it shut off the servants' rooms and the back staircase. They had put the big yellow linen cupboard before the tall window, the one she used to hang out of. Some of the old things had been left in the nursery schoolroom, so that it looked much the same. Britton, the maid, sat in Jenny's low chair by the fireguard. Aunt Charlotte sat in an armchair by the window.
Mrs. Herrick hesitated, deprecated. "But you know Mrs. Britton wasn't satisfied with the price I asked." "Oh," said Flora promptly, "but I shall be perfectly satisfied with it, and I want to take possession at once." The positive manner in which she waved Clara out of her way brought up in Mrs.
He regretted the man's escape the more especially as he felt that his own life, as well as that of his son, was endangered so long as he was at liberty. About a month after the search was abandoned Mr. Britton was one day surprised by a call from the wife of Martinez. He had not seen her since his one interview with her months before. He was sitting in Mr.
Britton hastily arranged the belongings of the room so as to render it as cosey and attractive as possible. "The evenings are so cool at this altitude that a fire will soon seem grateful," he remarked, lighting the fragrant boughs of spruce and hemlock which filled the fireplace and drawing chairs before the crackling, dancing flames.
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