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"No matter," said Webb; "it has also brought us warmth, exquisitely pure air, and a splendid covering for grass and grain that will be apt to last well into the spring. Anything rather than mud and the alternate freezing and thawing that are as provoking as a capricious friend." "Why, Webb, what a burst of sentiment!" said Burt.
"No, but I have put a stop to his depredations. I strongly suspect that pet subject of Miss Wort's that hulking, idle son of Widow Burt. I am sorry for her, but he is no good. You know I wrote to the inspector of police at Hampton. Did I not tell you? No!
You watch here." He had scarcely uttered the last word when soft, swift footsteps sounded on the hard path. A man turned in at the gate. The light was dim, yet clean enough to disclose an unusually tall figure. When it appeared nearer he was seen to be walking with both arms raised, hands high. He slowed his stride. "Does Burt Jones live here?" he asked, in a low, hurried voice. "I reckon.
Dobie in less than two years from the date when his first short story was published challenges comparison with the similar career of Maxwell Struthers Burt. As Mr. Burt's art has its analogies with that of Mrs. Gerould, so Mr. Dobie's art has its analogies with that of Wilbur Daniel Steele. I am not certain that Mr.
As she emerged from under the apple-tree, through which as a white cloud she had been looking at the moon, he appeared so suddenly as to startle her, and without any gentle reassurance he seized her hand, and poured out his feelings in a way that at first wounded and frightened her. "Burt," she cried, "why do you speak to me so? Can't you see that I do not feel as you do?
"Because it's Banneker's." "Why?" "He's the guest with the gun." Mallory jumped in his chair. "Banneker!" he exclaimed. "Oh, hell!" he added disconsolately. "Takes the shine out of the story, doesn't it?" observed Burt with a malicious smile. One of the anomalous superstitions of newspaperdom is that nothing which happens to a reporter in the line of his work is or can be "big news."
This the fans derided with hoots and hisses. No team work, no inside ball for them. "Hit it out!" yelled a hundred in unison. "Home run!" screamed a worshipper of long hits. As if actuated by the sentiments of his admirers Maloney lined the ball over short. It looked good for a double; it certainly would advance Bell to third; maybe home. But no one calculated on Burt.
"I am not so young and blind but that I can see that you are quietly half reckless with yourself," she replied; and her tone indicated that she was a little hurt. "I pledge you my word that I will not be reckless tonight; and, after all, this is but disagreeable, humdrum work that we often have to do. Don't worry, little sister. Burt will be there to watch over me, you know," he added.
The passengers from the evening boats were landed on a wharf partially submerged, and some were taken in boats to a point whence they could reach their carriages. In the elements' disquiet Burt had found an excuse for his own, and he had remained out much of the day. He had not called on Miss Hargrove again, but had ridden far enough to learn that the bridges in that direction were safe.
"Because I had resolved that nature should be my sole ally. Was not my kiss under the mistletoe a better way of awakening my sleeping beauty than a stab of jealousy?" "Yes, Webb, dear, patient Webb. The rainbow shield was a true omen, and I am sheltered indeed." Leonard had long since gone to the depot, and now the chimes of his returning bells announced that Burt and Gertrude were near.
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