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Tom was not to be diverted from his subject by any meteorological observations. "Perhaps some time your guardian will allow the dad to take you on another little holiday," he said hopefully. "I'm afraid he won't," answered Kate. "Why not?" "Because he seemed so cross when I came back this last time." "Why was he cross?" asked Tom.
I express this view of the matter in a passage of the preface to the first volume, which I edited, of the Library of the Fathers. Speaking of the strangeness at first sight, presented to the Anglican mind, of some of their principles and opinions, I bid the reader go forward hopefully, and not indulge his criticism till he knows more about them, than he will learn at the outset.
You must excuse the children, who see so little company, they are quite unmanageable when strangers are present. Cynthia, WILL you see if the servants have looked after Mr. Bowers's horse? You know Bob is not to be trusted." There was clearly nothing else for Mr. Bowers to do but to take his leave, which he did respectfully, if not altogether hopefully.
It is a ruinous affair on all hands. In the midst of his troubles and vexations with his farm, he began to look more hopefully to the Excise, and to see in the future a life of literary ease, when he could devote himself wholly to the Muses.
"Not that way," she answered positively. "You might try," he suggested hopefully. "Honest, I'm crazy about you. I've liked you ever since I saw you first. I wouldn't want any greater privilege than to marry you and take you away from this sort of thing. You're too good for it. Maybe I'm kind of sudden, but I know my own mind. Can't you take a chance with me?"
"Wot makes snow, Uncle Steve?" the boy demanded. "Why, the cold, I guess. It just freezes the rain in the clouds. And when they get so heavy they can't stay up any longer, why they just come tumbling down and makes folk sit around the stove and wish they wouldn't." "Does us wish they wouldn't?" "Most all the time." The child considered deeply. Then his face brightened hopefully.
"The Newtons' house is also watched by Secret Service agents. I saw them sneaking about the yard when I left Miss Nancy an hour ago. If you go there at this hour you will be arrested instantly." Sam scratched his woolly head in perplexity. "I reckon if I jes' go to der back alley an' whistle fo' Misery dey won' notice dis ole nigger," he volunteered hopefully, after a moment's thought.
She did not know what to say, wanted to ask him to come again, but feared, in her new self-consciousness, it wasn't the stylish thing to do. "I'm real glad you called," was the nearest she dared. He was at the door and turned, hopefully smiling. "Are you?" "Sure," she murmured. "Then why don't you ask me to come again?" "I thought that was up to you."
He called himself a fool because he had followed for a day the flutter of Virginia's gown, and a dotard for the many loves he had sworn to long before. In the twilight he saw Betty's eyes, grave, accusing, darkened with reproach; and he asked himself half hopefully if she cared if it were possible for a moment that she cared.
"We haven't got anything," said Polly, still looking at him. "Why, we've got a tree," replied Ben, hopefully. "Well, what's a tree," retorted Polly, scornfully. "Anybody can go out and look at a tree outdoors."
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