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But still Bob Dimsted did not come; and at last Dexter began to settle down seriously to his fishing, as the impressions made grew more faint. Then all at once back they came; for as he sat watching his float one day, a voice said sharply "Now then! why don't you strike!" But Dexter did not strike, and the fish went off with the bait as the holder of the rod exclaimed
For although she had once heard the Butterfly Man gravely assure Miss Sally Ruth Dexter that the only ancestor his immediate Flints were sure of was Flint the pirate, my mother still clung firmly to the illusion of Family. Blood will tell! As for me, I was equally sure that blood was telling now; and telling in the atrocious tongue of the depths. I felt that the end had come.
"All right, Bob, I'll mind," said Dexter, with all the humility of an ignorance which kept him from knowing that as he was rowing stroke Bob should have taken his time from him.
His evidence in his friend's favor at the Trial was given with the deep feeling which everybody expected from him. Nevertheless, I firmly believe, looking under the surface, that Mr. Macallan has no bitterer enemy living than Miserrimus Dexter." He turned me cold. I felt that here, at least, he was right. My husband had wooed and won the woman who had refused Dexter's offer of marriage.
Bob got into the boat and unfastened the chain, so that there was nothing left for Dexter to do but follow; and they rowed away down the river, which was widening fast.
"Larry Dexter the reporter!" he fairly shouted. "How in the world " "Let me get aboard I'll talk when when I get rid of of some of this water!" panted Larry Dexter. "Can you save the others?" "I've got one!" shouted Paul. "Give me a hand, Innis!" Together the two cadets lifted into the motorboat a limp and bedraggled figure.
His most important and largest work, the six folio volumes of his "Biblia Americana," pursued by "Strange Frowns of Heaven" could not find a publisher and still is unprinted. Cotton Mather survived his own era, his congenial atmosphere, and, whether he was conscious of it or not, was indeed, as Dexter called him, a literary dodo, an isolated relic of early fantastic methods of composition.
"He had better learn the whole of our names, and the history of them as well, and then, perhaps, he will be kind enough to drop the subject forever. Here is the story: At the time father was married he was doing business in Augusta, Maine; but it happened, unfortunately, that mother was born and brought up in Dexter.
The Skipper himself was at the wheel and, coughing the raw, damp fog out of his throat, he shouted hoarsely to Topper: "Better get our fog-horn goin', mate." "Aye, aye, Skipper. It's in your cabin, ain't it?" "Yes, in the first locker." The mate descended the companion-steps, with a mysterious smile on his face, and his dexter optic closed. The casual observer might have thought that Mr.
There were Gabriel Lane's cheery, hopeful tones, the soprano of Cousin Jane and Cousin Emma, the baritone of Mr. Gunn, and the grave measured oratorical utterance of Parson Dexter, who had joined the party at the station; but certainly the accents of no STRANGER. Had he come?