United States or Åland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"I never was discharged from a place in me loife. I won't stand for it! I'll lave, but I'll not be discharged. It's Sago that has to be discharged not me." "Discharge both of them, Mr. Hamshaw," advised Goodrich amiably. "I know where you can get an excellent cook and " "Oh, you do, eh? With recommindations, too, I suppose!" sniffed Ellen in a fine flare. "The very best, my good woman."
"What do you mean, sir?" demanded Mr. Gladding. "Where are Marie and Louise?" murmured Mr. Hamshaw. Just then a trim maid appeared in the doorway white-capped and aproned. "Did you ring, Ma'am? Good Heavens!" It was Marie! Mr. Hamshaw fainted without more ado, and the apartment was in an uproar. Everybody thought he was dead, and the Misses Frost promptly duplicated his swooning act. When Mr.
After arranging himself carefully he refused to call for Sago he boldly descended to the second floor. Then he lost his nerve. Instead of ringing the Gladding door-bell he walked on downstairs and out into the open air. At the corner he came plump upon Mr. Gladding himself, the step-father of the two girls. "How are you, Mr. Hamshaw?
Besides all this, he was a bachelor, and one jolly one, at the time when this narrative opens. He lived in apartments pretty well downtown, where he was looked after with scrupulous care by a Japanese valet and an Irish "cook-lady." Mr. Hamshaw was forever discharging his valet and forever re-engaging him. Sago persistently refused to leave at the hour set for his departure, and Mr.
He jammed his hat far down upon his head, glancing, as he did so, at the other girl. She was smiling genially, her face rosy from the wind her sister condemned, and, with ruthless inconstancy, Mr. Hamshaw at once changed his mind. She was the one. "Pardon me for the liberty," he said, "but I am Mr. Hamshaw. We are neighbours, you know. Live in the same building."
My child, his eyes fill with tears when he thinks of you. I have seen them moisten as he lies looking from the window." But Kate was gone. When Mrs. Fortune opened the door to the sick man's room soon afterward she drew back quickly, closed it again, and, lifting her eyes aloft, murmured: "God make them happy!" Mr. Hamshaw was short, bald, pudgy and fifty-seven.
"Not another word, sir! They are ladies, and not to be discussed by such a bounder as you." At last Mr. Hamshaw decided to take Louise. "I'll tell her tomorrow," he said to himself, quite sure that it was only necessary to tell and not to ask. But that evening, just after returning from the club, he saw something that troubled and harassed him not a little.
Hamshaw intimately, that he had once felt the inclination to take unto himself a wife. That, of course, was years and years ago, and it is hardly necessary to remark that the young woman, whoever she may have been, was not possessed of a responsive inclination. Result: Mr. Hamshaw not only refrained from marrying any one in all the subsequent years but astutely prevented any one from marrying him.
His heart was so light that it bobbed up and down like a fisherman's cork. He was not long in discovering that the tall one was Mame and the short one Lou short for Marie and Louise, they explained on request! "I see a good many boxes of flowers going up to your apartment," ventured Mr. Hamshaw, quite out of breath. "Every day, and sometimes in between," said Marie.
Hamshaw, the big building saw the last of its moving-vans, its plumbers and decorators, and the new Gladdings were as quietly ensconced as the old had been. It was not until the end of the second week thereafter that Mr. Hamshaw had his first glimpse of the two debutantes the young Misses Frost. But that one glimpse was his undoing.
Word Of The Day