United States or Botswana ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Presently Miss Fanhall arose. "Why, you are not going in already, are you?" said Hawker and Hollanden and Oglethorpe. The Worcester mother moved toward the door followed by her daughters, who were protesting in muffled tones. Hollanden pitched violently upon Oglethorpe. "Well, at any rate " he said. He picked the thread of a past argument with great agility.
As the discussion grew in size it incited the close attention of the Worcester girls, but Miss Fanhall did not seem to hear it. Hawker, too, was staring into the darkness with a gloomy and preoccupied air. "Are you sorry that this is your last evening at Hemlock Inn?" said the painter at last, in a low tone. "Why, yes certainly," said the girl.
"He is a rattling good fellow and he has stacks of money. Of course, in this case his having money doesn't affect the situation much. Miss Fanhall " "Say, can you keep to the thread of the story, you infernal literary man!" "Well, he's popular. He don't talk money ever. And if he's wicked, he's not sufficiently proud of it to be perpetually describing his sins.
There was a surge toward the railing as a middle-aged woman passed the word along her middle-aged friends that Miss Fanhall, accompanied by Mr. Hawker, had arrived on the ox cart of Mr. Hawker's father. "Whoa! Ha! Git-ap!" said the old man in more subdued tones. "Whoa there, Red! Whoa, now! Wh-o-a!"
He perched on a boulder and began to study Hawker's canvas and the vivid yellow stubble with the olive shadows. He wheeled his eyes from one to the other. "Say, Hawker," he said suddenly, "why don't you marry Miss Fanhall?" Hawker had a brush in his mouth, but he took it quickly out, and said, "Marry Miss Fanhall? Who the devil is Miss Fanhall?"
Through the trees they could see the cataract, a great shimmering white thing, booming and thundering until all the leaves gently shuddered. "I wonder where Miss Fanhall and Mr. Hawker have gone?" said the younger Miss Worcester. "I wonder where they've gone?" "Millicent," said Hollander, looking at her fondly, "you always had such great thought for others." "Well, I wonder where they've gone?"
Hollanden climbed offendedly from the great weather-beaten stone. "Well, I shall go and see that the men have not spilled the luncheon while breaking their necks over these rocks. Would you like to have it spread here, Mrs. Fanhall? Never mind consulting the girls. I assure you I shall spend a great deal of energy and temper in bullying them into doing just as they please.
Hollanden replied, "What did you do with that violet she dropped at the side of the tennis court yesterday?" Mrs. Fanhall, with the two children, the Worcester girls, and Hollanden, clambered down the rocky path. Miss Fanhall and Hawker had remained on top of the ledge. Hollanden showed much zeal in conducting his contingent to the foot of the falls.
By the way," he added, "you haven't got any obviously loose screws in your character, have you?" "No," said Hawker, after consideration, "only general poverty that's all." "Of course, of course," said Hollanden. "But that's bad. They'll get on to you, sure. Particularly since you come up here to see Miss Fanhall so much." Hawker glinted his eyes at his friend.
"Well, I'll come up and help you out." "Do," Hollanden laughed; "you and Miss Fanhall can team it against the littlest Worcester girl and me." He regarded the landscape and meditated. Hawker struggled for a grip on the thought of the stubble. "That colour of hair and eyes always knocks me kerplunk," observed Hollanden softly. Hawker looked up irascibly. "What colour hair and eyes?" he demanded.
Word Of The Day