United States or British Indian Ocean Territory ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
As the day wore on, Gussie's incessant bickerings became unbearable, and among other things she charged Dexie with the most heartless behavior in regard to Hugh, until she could not bear the thought of meeting him, so she silently decided to remain at home, but to say nothing about her decision until the last moment; consequently, no one had a chance to tell Hugh that Dexie had changed her mind.
Yes, the letter was from George L. Thomas, and George L. Thomas was Cousin Gussie's private secretary. At last! The letter shook in Galusha's fingers as he began to read. Mr. Thomas was glad to hear from him, glad to learn that he was in better health, etc.... All right enough, this beginning, but not at all important.
And if Cousin Gussie, or Cousin Gussie's representatives, would let him have it for such a purpose! Cousin Gussie always made such an unpleasant disturbance when he expressed a desire for any of his money, asked so many embarrassing questions as to what was to be done with it, and the like. If he should go now and ask for five thousand dollars to lend Martha Phipps, what...
Hugh spent the last evening of his stay at the Sherwoods', and, in spite of Gussie's raillery, he was silent and sad; even Guy could not rouse him into cheerfulness. During the evening he obtained a few minutes' conversation with Mr. Sherwood, and his low, earnest words brought a mist to the eyes of the sick man.
"Go away, you crazy loon!" cried Aunt Dahlia, in that ringing voice of hers which had once caused nervous members of the Quorn to lose stirrups and take tosses from the saddle. Gussie's reply was to waggle his eyebrows. I could read the message he was trying to convey.
Dexie found that the party had not improved Gussie's temper, for she came home with many complaints as to how she had been neglected. "I wish you had gone," she said spitefully to Dexie. "I was sick and tired of hearing people ask where you were, and why you had not come, and there was not a soul there that I cared to talk to, even Mr. McNeil disappeared, no one knows where."
"He kept them in his study in a kind of glass-tank arrangement, and pretty niffy the whole thing was, I recall. I suppose one ought to have been able to see what the end would be even then, but you know what boys are. Careless, heedless, busy about our own affairs, we scarcely gave this kink in Gussie's character a thought.
Gurrage said, when she felt sure we were alone, "I don't like it and that's flat!" "What do you not like?" I said, respectfully. "Gussie's goings-on! If you tried to coax him more he would not be forever rushin' up to London to see that viscountess of his. I wonder you don't show no spark of jealousy. Law! I'd have scratched her eyes out had she interfered between me and Mr.
However, the prospect of hearing another of Gussie's anecdotes seemed to have done the trick. Rising rather as I had risen from my bench at the beginning of that painful scene with Tuppy in the twilight, he made a leap for the table, snatched up a book and came bearing down on the speaker.
Nobody ever mentions it, and the family have been trying to forget it for twenty-five years, but it's a known fact that my Aunt Julia, Gussie's mother, was a vaudeville artist once, and a very good one, too, I'm told. She was playing in pantomime at Drury Lane when Uncle Cuthbert saw her first.
Word Of The Day