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He inquired her whereabouts of the waiters in the café, the grocer's assistants, the girls at the laundry, the police, and the postman. At last, following the direction of a neighbour, he found her poulticing an old lady, for she was a nurse. Her face was purple and she reeked of brandy. He sent her to watch the corpse.
"Yes," replied Carl, "because the grocer's boy always comes along at just a quarter after nine for his orders, and he had been gone more than twenty minutes." At that the other boy stopped still and looked fixedly at Carl. "That grocer's boy is a fellow by the name of Dock Phillips, isn't he?" was what Tom asked, as though with a purpose. "Yes," Carl replied. "And he works for Mr.
"Now what do you Here, where are you going now?" Steve had turned and was marching down the steps. He paused a minute to explain, however. "Why, I'm goin' back daown to the city," he grated out. "I'm goin' back after Miss Sarah's eggs!" And he went and when he returned the creases in the paper bag which held his purchase were as fresh as when it had left the grocer's counter.
And I have a little water-color sketch of my mother, and she looks fair and sweet and interesting. But I never knew them. Those I knew and know and love are you, grandfather, and granny." "Well, dear, when I had the power and the brains and the strength, I kept a shop a grocer's shop, dear; and my wife, she was the daughter of a harness-maker.
Looking at your glowing face and shining eyes, your father will tell your mother that she should have gone also, but when he marks the havoc which you make with the substantial part of the meal, and sees that your appetite for dessert is twice as good as usual, he will reflect upon his butcher's and grocer's bills, and, considering what they would be with provision to make for two such voracious creatures, he will say, "No, Esmeralda, don't take your mother!"
Opinion in the city was divided as to the truth of his account of Mme. de Lamotte's elopement. The nobility were on the side of the injured de Lamotte, but the bourgeoisie accepted the grocer's story and made merry over the deceived husband. Interrogated, however, by the magistrate of the Chatelet, Derues' position became more difficult.
"It desolates me to hear of her extremity," the captain answered, with a fine irony, "but I am here to do my duty. I am thinking, my dear, that you are some great lady's maid?" He was eying her sharply, suspiciously; she made haste to protest: "Oh, no, monsieur; I am servant to Mme. Mesnier, the grocer's wife." "And perhaps you serve in the shop?"
Sophia clung to her grocer's book as some unpopular monarch tottering on his insecure throne might cling to his sceptre.
The gang had resolved on "burgling" a hermit near Lobberich. Had he been an eremite of the old sort, the last place in which robbers would have expected to find plunder would be his cell. But in the eighteenth century it was otherwise, and this particular hermit kept a grocer's shop, and sold coffee, sugar, and nutmegs.
Sometimes he did errands for one of the dry-goods stores; sometimes, if there were a vacancy, he helped in Fernald and Company's shipping rooms; sometimes he worked at the town market or rode about on the grocer's wagon, delivering orders. By one means or another he had usually contrived, since he was quite a small boy, to pick up odd sums that went toward his clothes and "keep."
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