United States or Kuwait ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


Wakeham was among them, his eyes fixed on me, watching me as boys watch a conjurer in the hope of finding out "how he does it." Later in the afternoon he slipped his arm through mine, and drew me away into an empty corner of the ground. "I say, Kelver," he broke out, the moment we were beyond hearing, "you really are funny!" It gave me no pleasure.

If he had told me that he admired my bowling I might not have believed him, but should have loved him for it. "So are you," I answered savagely, "only you don't know it." "No, I'm not," he replied. "Wish I was. I say, Kelver" he glanced round to see that no one was within earshot "do you think you could teach me to be funny?"

It seemed as though with his amazing audacity he had tricked even Death into becoming his accomplice. "But it is impossible, Kelver!" cried Gadley, "this must be some dream. Stillwood, Waterhead and Royal! What is the meaning of it?" He took the book into his hands again, then burst into tears. "You never knew him," wailed the poor little man. "Stillwood, Waterhead and Royal!

Had a boy come across his path, clever at walking on his hands with his heels in the air, Master Paul Kelver would in all probability have broken his neck in attempts to copy and excel. I make no apologies for the brat: I merely present him as a study for the amusement of a world of wiser boys and men.

For two months I wandered, avoiding beaten tracks, my only comrades a few books, belonging to no age, no country. My worries fell from me, the personal affairs of Paul Kelver ceasing to appear the be all and the end all of the universe. But for a chance meeting with Wellbourne, Deleglise's amateur caretaker of Gower Street fame, I should have delayed yet longer my return.

"You might," said the leading lady, "see your way to making the plot depend upon me. It always seems to me that the woman's part is never made enough of in comic opera. I am sure a comic opera built round a woman would be a really great success. Don't you agree with me, Mr. Kelver," pouted the leading lady, laying her pretty hand on mine. "We are much more interesting than the men now, aren't we?"

Kelver," she pleaded in her soft caressing tones; "it's Dick Whittington, you know such an excellent moral." My mother had stood silent, clasping and unclasping her hands, a childish trick she had when troubled; and her lips were trembling. Important as the matter loomed before my own eyes, I wondered at her agitation. "I am very sorry," said my mother, "it is very kind of you.

"How much do we owe you, Doctor?" said my mother. She spoke in a voice trembling with severity. He closed the purse and gently pushed it back towards her. "A glass of beer and a chop, Mrs. Kelver," he answered, "which I am coming back in an hour to cook for myself.

It was the first time I had seen my real name in print: "The Witch of Moel Sarbod: a legend of Mona, by Paul Kelver." A ruffianly-looking man in dirty shirt-sleeves, who appeared astonished that any one should want a copy, found one at length on the floor underneath the counter. With it in my pocket, I retraced my footsteps as in a dream. On a seat in Paddington Green I sat down and read it.

"When your poor father came to me he told me very frankly the sad fact that he had only a few more years to live. 'Mr. Kelver, I answered him, 'do not let that trouble you, so far as I am concerned. There are one or two matters in the office I should like to see cleared up, and in these you can help me. When they are completed I shall retire! Yet, you see, I linger on.