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Duff's shop did not aspire to that luxurious class of goods; but humble skeins of mixed sewing-silks, that were kept tied up in a piece of wash-leather. Mrs. Duff's head and a customer's head were brought together over the bundle, endeavouring to fix upon a skein of a particular shade, by the help of the one gas-burner which flared away overhead. "Drat the silk!" said Mrs. Duff at length.
Then he showed us a picture of Duff, his brother, which Linkern defended for murder, and a picture of one of the jurymen what let Duff off, and a picture of his mother's brother what was the greatest fiddler ever in the county. And he showed us Duff's discharge from the army which Linkern wrote, and a badge which Linkern had given to his mother onct. So then I said to John, "Did you ever see Mr.
It's about five minutes ago, sir." "Did you go over?" asked Jan of Cheese. "I saw a crowd round Mrs. Duff's door." "No, I didn't. I am going now. I was indoors, having my supper." "Then you need not trouble yourself," returned Jan. "Stop where you are, and digest your supper." He, Jan, was speeding off, when a fresh deputation arrived.
It was like him," he said when he found voice. He took the nerveless hand and held it a moment in silence, and then he laid it gently down and stood up, looking about through the moonlight, toward the cypress swamp and Duff's Fort. "But why did the scoundrels run away before finishing their infamous work? And where is the doctor's horse? Ah! They have stolen that, of course. Which way did they go?
Scaife, alone of those present, appreciated the order in which his schoolfellows had been named. Egerton known as the Caterpillar was the son of a Guardsman; Lovell's father was a judge; Duff's father an obscure parson. The duchess shook hands with each boy. "Your father and I are old friends," she said to Egerton; "and I have had the pleasure of meeting your uncle," she smiled at John.
He got in there, and drove off with his groom, saying farewell to none, and taking nothing with him but an overcoat. As he drove past Mrs. Duff's shop, the remembrance of the bill came over him. He had forwarded the money to her the previous night in his wife's name. He caught the train; was too soon for it; it was five minutes behind time.
It is known that he owns a fleet of flatboats, and one of them is usually seen waiting near Duff's Fort when horses are stolen, and it is always gone before the dawn of the next day; but there is no proof of this, either. Boats belonging to other people have a hard time getting past Duff's Fort.
As Duff's declarations grew in violence they became more and more elaborately decorated with profanity. In the full tide of their conversation a quiet voice broke in: "Too many 'damns." "What!" exclaimed Duff. "I beg your pardon!" said Sandy. "Too many 'damns," said Barry, looking quietly at Duff. "Dams? Where?" said Duff, looking about. "Beaver dams, do you mean?" enquired Sandy.
"I'm glad to see you, sir," he said quietly, reaching out his hand. "Good old man," said Barry, gripping his hand hard, "but you are a blamed old fool, you know." McCuaig made no reply, but there was a happy light on his face. Under Duff's compelling urging they got the wounded man on a stretcher and started on their long and painful carry.
"Well, as I was panting along like a 'heavey horse, as Harry Hobbs would say, not really too bad, dad, along comes that big rancher, Stewart Duff, driving his team of pinto bronchos, and with him a chap named Bayne, from Red Pine Creek. He turned out to be an awfully decent sort. And Duff's dog, Slipper, ranging on ahead, a beautiful setter." "Yes, I have seen him."
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