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Nevertheless, something within his heart insisted it was so. If only the bird would turn his head! At last Horner put two fingers between his mouth, and blew a whistle so piercing that every one stared rebukingly, and a policeman came strolling along casually to see if any one had signalled for help. But Horner was all unconscious of the interest which he had excited.
"I think somebody ought to do something to that fellaw I really do, don't yer know." "Suppose you try to see what you can do with him," grinned Tad Horner. "You ought to be able to do something." "Aw really you will hawve to excuse me!" exclaimed Willis in alarm. "I hawdly think I could match his low cunning, don't yer understand." "Oh, yes, I understand," nodded Horner, significantly.
Little Jack Horner no, Little Jack Hunter. I'm so glad! I just do love it; and we had called him Baby till I was afraid we'd never quit it," Elizabeth said. They kept the old man as long as they could induce him to stay, and when he did go home it was with the settled conviction that he had been wanted.
But he had died childless, unmarried. The heir of the Monkshaven property was an Edinburgh advocate, a far-away kinsman of my lord's: the Hanbury property, at my lady's death, would go to the descendants of a third son of the Squire Hanbury in the days of Queen Anne. This complication of affairs was most grievous to Mr. Horner.
"Then, I shall have to ask each separately, and I expect a truthful answer," said Mr. Horner. He began putting the question, going from one to the next till every girl in the room had been questioned. "It might have been one of the older girls," said Miss Newman, in an undertone to him. Clara caught the words, as she was nearest.
Of all his friends I think more highly than I ever thought or knew before I read his letters to them and theirs to him. There never was such a unanimous tribute to integrity in a statesman as was paid to Horner by the British Senate at his death: I remember it at the time, and I am glad to see it recorded in this book.
The Speculative Society is a body of some antiquity, and has counted among its members Scott, Brougham, Jeffrey, Horner, Benjamin Constant, Robert Emmet, and many a legal and local celebrity besides.
Mark's mother taught him that the desire of a bad boy to be a good boy is a better thing than the goodness of a Jack Horner.
"Well, you cannot be Jack Horner, because you have no pie with you, and you're not Little Boy Blue, because I see you wear a red necktie," went on the bunny uncle. "Do you belong to Mother Goose at all?" "Yes," answered the boy. "I do. You must have heard about me. I am Diller-a-Dollar, a ten o'clock scholar, why do you come so soon? I used to come at ten o'clock, but now I'll come at noon.
That would be the easier task. But you did right to speak of discretion rather than honour. Discretion looks to the consequences of actions honour looks to the action itself, and is an instinct rather than a virtue. After all, it is possible you might have trained him to be discreet." Mr. Horner was silent.
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