United States or Latvia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Sure we do. There ain't too much money in this business." She laughed and tossed them back to him. "Why are you angry?" she asked Hedger. "I wouldn't have done it if I'd been with some fellows, but I thought you were the sort who wouldn't mind. Molly didn't for a minute think you would." "What possessed you to do such a fool thing?" he asked roughly. "I don't know.
But what vexed and humbled me more than all I had suffered, was, that one night, just after I had let my scholars away, an auld hedger and ditcher body, almost sixty years o' age, came into the house, and 'How's a' wi' ye the nicht? says he, though I had never spoken to the man before. But he took off his bonnet, and, pulling in a chair, drew a seat to the fire. I was thunderstruck!
She threw her muff on his writing table and sank into the deep chair. "I have come to you for some information that's not in my line. Do you know anything about an American painter named Hedger?" He took the seat opposite her. "Don Hedger? But, certainly! There are some very interesting things of his in an exhibition at V 's. If you would care to " She held up her hand. "No, no.
He could tell her, too, that he hadn't as much as unstrapped his canvases, that ought to convince her. In those days passengers from Long Island came into New York by ferry. Hedger had to be quick about getting his dog out of the express car in order to catch the first boat.
He forgot there was anything of importance going on in the world outside of his third floor studio. Nobody had ever taught him that he ought to be interested in other people; in the Pittsburgh steel strike, in the Fresh Air Fund, in the scandal about the Babies' Hospital. A grey wolf, living in a Wyoming canyon, would hardly have been less concerned about these things than was Don Hedger.
"Say what you can about it, mother. My father has told me the story many a time, but I can never hear it too often." "My dear lad, it was in the days of thy great-grandfather. One afternoon John Wesley came to Hatton and was met with honor and welcome. And word was sent far and near, to squire and farmer, hedger and ditcher.
Where did you pick him up?" the young man glanced toward the seat under a sycamore where Hedger was reading the morning paper. "Oh, he's an old friend from the West," said Eden easily. "I won't introduce you, because he doesn't like people. He's a recluse. Good-bye. I can't be sure about Tuesday. I'll go with you if I have time after my lesson."
'Well, as the story is, the king came to the throne; and some years after that, away went Hedger Luxellian, knocked at the king's door, and asked if King Charles the Second was in. "No, he isn't," they said. "Then, is Charles the Third?" said Hedger Luxellian. "Yes," said a young feller standing by like a common man, only he had a crown on, "my name is Charles the Third." And
In another minute the wave of life is gone; it has swept over and disappeared as swiftly as it came. The wood, the field, and lane seem painfully positively painfully empty. Slowly the hedger and ditcher goes back to his work, where in the shade under the bushes even now the dew lingers. So there are days to be enjoyed out of doors even in much-abused November.
Hedger started up and pushed his canvas out of the way. "What could I possibly get from Burton Ives? He's almost the worst painter in the world; the stupidest, I mean." Eden was annoyed. Burton Ives had been very nice to her and had begged her to sit for him. "You must admit that he's a very successful one," she said coldly. "Of course he is!
Word Of The Day