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"Your pitiful attempts to mislead Barbara's admirers expose you to ridicule, and offend those of us who tolerate you out of regard for her." "What would I be going to the train for, now?" Tom inquired, in a deceitfully mild tone. Inwardly he was raging, and he cursed the judge for a meddlesome old fool. "Hm-m! Thought you'd sneak down there, unobserved, probably."
"The boy, I suppose I shall have to endure; but the dog !" "Hm-m; well, judging by his name," murmured Bertram, apologetically, "it may be just possible that Spunk won't be easily controlled. But maybe he isn't a dog, anyhow. He er sounds something like a parrot to me." Cyril rose to his feet abruptly. He had eaten almost no dinner. "Very well," he said coldly.
A tiny mechanical bird with actual feathers. And it sings! It is a really, truly yellow canary in a beautiful gold cage, and when you press a spring it perks its head, opens its beak, flirts its tail, and utters the most angelic song. It must have cost a fortune. Couldn't you love a man who would think of a present like that?" "Hm-m! Could you?" "Oh, I'm joking, of course," "Bob" said, seriously.
"Hm-m; no," returned Mrs. Pendergast, with noncommittal briefness. Not six weeks later Mary, in her beautiful Commonwealth Avenue home, received a call from a little, thin-faced woman, who curtsied to the butler and asked him to please tell her sister that she wished to speak to her. Mary looked worried and not over-cordial when she rustled into the room.
There were a paper and two letters. "Hm-m," began Mr. Clayton, "one for you, Julia, my dear, and by Jove, it's Dennison's letter!" he finished joyfully, thrusting an eager thumb under the flap of the other envelope. Twenty minutes later, with head erect and shoulders squared, the senior member of the firm of Clayton & Company left his home and hurried down the street.
I imagine no one has seen it yet it's not finished; but Alice says " Calderwell turned abruptly, a quizzical smile on his face. "See here, my son," he interposed, "it strikes me that this Alice is saying a good deal to you! Who is she?" Arkwright gave a light laugh. "Why, I told you. She is Miss Alice Greggory, Mrs. Henshaw's friend and mine. I have known her for years." "Hm-m; what is she like?"
"Oh, no; it hasn't happened yet," corrected Bertram, cheerfully. "It's just going to happen. William's got to put on the pink first, you know. That's the talisman." William reddened. "Bertram, don't be foolish. I sha'n't wear any pink. You must know that." "How'll you find him, then?" "Why, he'll have one on; that's enough," settled William. "Hm-m; maybe.
We could stand a siege an' not suffer, though Eunice never does feel content 'less she's got fuel enough ahead to last two years. Hm-m. It's gettin' too hot to chop, anyway. Must be Indian summer comin' on, though I claim 'tain't due till November. Susanna, now, she says October, an' Eunice, she calls that warm spell we always have the first the winter an Indian summer.
But if his ill luck went westward with him, and the silk dress never turned up, why, she would forget him, and be better off, and that would be the end of it. So here he was, ticketed and started, fairly bound for Colorado, sitting with his hat over his eyes, and thinking about it. "Hm-m. Asleep," pronounced Tommy, with his keen glance into the corner. "Guess I'll wake him up."
Then, with a breathless rush, very much like desperation, he burst out: "But it's always an awful long time comin', isn't it? Blindness is. It's years and years before it really gets here, isn't it?" "Hm-m; well, I can't say. I can only speak for myself, Keith." "Yes, sir, I know, sir; and that's what I wanted to ask about you," plunged on Keith feverishly.
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