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"But it may be somebody wanting to get in to do us harm kill us perhaps," suggested Bell. "People who want to get into a house for bad ends don't ring the front doorbell, or any bell," said Bessie. At this junction two figures appeared in the distance advancing along the road to the castle soon made out to be the servants, so that they at least were guiltless in the affair.
"Wake up, Grace," playfully admonished her mother, her eyes chancing to rest on her daughter's rapt face. "If my ears do not deceive me, I think I heard the doorbell. Perhaps it is the expressman." "I hope it is." Hastily dropping her embroidery to the rustic bench on which she was seated, Grace rose and set off in a hurry toward the not-far-distant house.
A ring at the doorbell caused us to think that he had been found, but it proved to be the student to whom Kennedy had telephoned at his own laboratory. He was carrying a heavy suitcase and a small tank. Kennedy opened the suitcase hastily and disclosed a little motor, some long tubes of rubber fitting into a small rubber cap, forceps, and other paraphernalia.
Smell almost cure you like the dentist's doorbell. Doctor Whack. He ought to physic himself a bit. Electuary or emulsion. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a bit of pluck. Simples. Want to be careful. Enough stuff here to chloroform you. Test: turns blue litmus paper red. Chloroform. Overdose of laudanum. Sleeping draughts. Lovephiltres. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough.
A ring at the doorbell caused us to think that he had been found, but it proved to be the student to whom Kennedy had telephoned at his own laboratory. He was carrying a heavy suitcase and a small tank. Kennedy opened the suitcase hastily and disclosed a little motor, some long tubes of rubber fitting into a small rubber cap, forceps, and other paraphernalia.
It began to grow dusk, but it was not yet so dark that little Jim failed to see Pat and Mike come in and run lightly up the stairs. And then there was a tramp of feet outside, the doorbell rang, and as the electric light flooded the house, Andy opened the front door and in trooped boys and girls. Little Jim was amazed. Not one came into the parlor, but Andy sent them all upstairs.
As the girls grew up, they learnt to dread the sound of the front doorbell, which so often meant an angry tradesman; and Ewen Hooper, now that he was turning grey, lived amid a perpetual series of mean annoyances with which he was never meant to cope, and which he was now beginning to hand over, helplessly, to his younger daughter Nora, the one member of the family who showed some power to deal with them.
The work had to be done and the quicker she finished the stove, the better. Wearily she rose from her seat and with a last look at the baby, was going towards the kitchen, when suddenly the doorbell rang violently. The baby started in its sleep. Indignant at the noise Fanny went and opened. "Is that you, Jim?" she asked crossly. "Yes," he called out. "Well, I like your nerve!" she ejaculated.
As the car stopped, the face of a woman of about forty appeared at its window. Her expression was one of fretful annoyance, as though the footman who had sprung off the box and hurried up the steps to ring the front doorbell had, in his haste, stumbled purposely. The look she gave him, as he held the door open for her to alight, rebuked plainly his awkward stupidity. Yet, in spite of Mrs.
Yet, two hours later, after a sharp peal of the doorbell and a hasty knocking at his chamber door by the maid, James Clayton left the house; and one who met him on the steps said that his face was certainly not that of a sick man. It was after breakfast the next morning, before the family had dispersed, that Ethel rushed headlong into the dining-room. "Oh, James, James!" she cried breathlessly.
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