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We, for one, have little doubt that, owing to the Major's well-known talent in matters of apparel, his appearance will far eclipse in brilliancy that of his fellow-officers." Crailey dressed slowly, returning to the paper, now and then, with a perturbed countenance.
It may be not untimely to remark, also, of these five redoubtable beaux, that, during the evening, it occurred to every one of them to be glad that Crailey Gray was betrothed to Fanchon Bareaud, and that he was down on the Rouen River with a canoe, a rod and a tent.
But these things were as nothing compared with his unpatriotic defence of Charles Dickens. Of course the Englishman had not visited and thoroughly studied such a city as Rouen, Crailey confessed, twinklingly; but, after all, wasn't there some truth in "Martin Chuzzlewit?" Mr.
Gray, for I know you, though I never met you until last night. God bless you God bless you!" She wavered a moment, like a lily in the wind, and put out a hand blindly. "Not you!" she said sharply, as Tom Vanrevel started toward her. Mrs. Tanberry came quickly and put an arm about her, and together they went out of the room. "You must be good to her, Tom," said Crailey then, in a very low voice.
It's something I'll have to attend to myself." "Ah, I suppose," said Crailey, gently, "I suppose it's important, and you couldn't trust me to handle it. Well God knows you're right! I've shown you often enough how incompetent I am to do anything but write jingles!" "You do some more of them without the whiskey, Crailey.
He set down the flask, went to his friend and dropped a hand lightly on his shoulder. "What made you break the guitar? Tell me." "What makes you think I broke it?" asked his partner sharply. "Tell me why you did it," said Crailey. And Tom, pacing the room, told him, while Crailey stood in silence, looking him eagerly in the eye whenever Tom turned his way.
"The General's right, sir," exclaimed the elder Chenoweth indignantly, and most of the listeners appeared to agree with him. "It's a poor time to abuse the President when he's called for volunteers and our country is in danger, sir!" "Who is in danger?" answered Crailey, lifting his hand to still the clamor of approbation that arose. "Is Polk in danger? Or Congress?
And Crailey, calling to Tappingham Marsh, next below him, to come higher, left the writhing nozzle in the latter's possession, swung himself out upon the grappling-ladder, imitating the chief's gymnastics, and immediately, one hand grasping the second rung, one knee crooked over the lowest, leaned head down and took the nozzle from Marsh.
It seemed quite a journey, yet the motion was soothing, so he made no effort to open his eyes, until he found himself gently deposited upon the couch in his own chamber, when he smiled amiably, and, looking up, discovered his partner standing over him. Tom was very pale and there were deep, violet scrawls beneath his eyes. For once in his life he had come home later than Crailey.
It struck Crailey, even as he lay, coughing and weeping with smoke, that there was something splendid and large in the other's rage.
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