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For now we had a new visitor at the farm, a gay dog of a lawyer, and he talked more to Mrs. Molie than to anyone else. Had there been anything between her and Mr. Hoey? True, he was not much to look at, but then neither was she. The young lawyer was a sportsman, yet he was learned in the social sciences, too, had been in Switzerland and studied the principle of the referendum.
Then came Miss Torsen and Mrs. Molie, who were both to stay for the summer. They were followed by Schoolmaster Staur, who would stay a week. Later came two schoolmistresses, the Misses Johnsen and Palm, and still later Associate Schoolmaster Hoey and several others tradesmen, telephone operators, a few people from Bergen, one or two Danes.
"Well, what about Norwegian old-milk cheese?" said a Danish voice mildly. "Yes, that's filthy stuff, too," Mr. Hoey replied. "Just the thing for Schoolmaster Staur pontificating in his armchair." Laughter. Since matters were now smoothed over again, the lawyer could safely continue: "If we could only make such Swiss cheese here," he said, "we should not be so poor.
Russell, afterwards long before the public as Mrs. Hoey, even if opining that she wanted, especially for the low-necked ordeal, less osseous a structure.
Something of the kind, certainly. And she had met him, and unconsciously and without calculation gone through the very-brief interview in a manner worthy of the most finished actress say of La Heron, La Hoey or La Bateman, to name three of the most dissimilar but ablest representatives of dramatic character on the American stage.
The men from Bergen and Mrs. Brede with her children have left for home. The little girls curtsied and thanked me for taking them walking in the hills and telling them stories. The house is empty now. Associate Master Hoey and Mrs. Molie were the last to go; they left last week, traveling separately, though both were going to the same small town.
When I get tired of Associate Master Hoey and the ladies, I leave them and go out. And then I stay out all day long and nobody knows where I keep myself. It is fitting that a settled man should be different from the Associate Master, who is very far from being so settled. So I go out.
Cashel Hoey and John Lillie ; Fauvalet de Bourrienne, Eng. trans. by J. S. Memes, 3 vols. ; Antoine de Marbot, 3 vols.; C. F. de Meneval, covering the years 1802-1815, 3 vols. ; A. F. Miot de Melito, Eng. trans. ; L. P. de Segur, 3 vols; and C. M. de Talleyrand-Perigord, Eng. trans., 5 vols.
I quite agreed with Private Tom Clary, who, as he placed his brawny shoulder to a big log to roll it up the slope, remarked to his "bunky," Private George Hoey, "That's an invitation, begorra, I don't fale loike acciptin'." "Ye'd niver make yer t'ilet for anither assimbly if ye did, Tom. I don't think the lutinint will risk the comp'ny's hair in that way," replied Hoey.
Yes, indeed, he had learned a great deal at school. "Here you see an Artemis cotula," he said. Miss Torsen, who had also imbibed much learning, recognized the name and said: "Yes, take plenty of it with you." "What for?" "It's insect powder." Schoolmaster Staur knew nothing of that, and there was a good deal of discussion in which Associate Master Hoey had to take a hand.
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