United States or North Macedonia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Doctor Knowles came sometimes, but seldom: never talked, when he did come: late in the evening generally: and then would punch his skin, and look at his tongue, and shake the bottles on the mantel-shelf with a grunt that terrified Lois into the belief that the other doctor was a quack, and her patient was totally undone.
And some months later when the trousseau was in progress, the once despised Christmas guest, now a member in good-standing of Mary's household, did tireless service, smilingly, in the sewing-room. "Lemon, I think," said Miss Knowles, in defiance of the knowledge, born of many afternoons, that he preferred cream.
"Thousands o' dozens of saplings with those hands you planted, and saw lift up to be trees," answered Meadows, "and scores of dozens of timber you've felled; and now, if you've took your tea, Silas, I'd have you tell these chaps the story of Weaver Knowles, because you'll do it better than what I can." The old man sparked up a bit.
So away he went, with a fair amount of good wishes, though one or two persons assured remonstrating listeners that they thought it likely Enoch would make a good voyage, better than common, and show himself forwarded when he came to port. Soon after his departure, Mrs. Peter Downs and an intimate acquaintance discussed the ever-exciting subject of the Knowles robbery over a friendly cup of tea.
"Isn't it best to know the worst, and have it over?" "Well I don't know but what you're right, honey." "It's your say, Mr. Knowles," put in Gowan. "If you want the tenderfeet on your range, all right. If you don't, I'll engage to head back any bunch of engineers agoing, and I don't care whether they're dogies or longhorns." "There is to be no surveying party," explained Isobel. "Mr.
"Chuckie," he half whispered, "you couldn't ha' done it. You're you're dreaming, honey!" "No. Listen, Daddy! It's been growing on you so your fear that we'll lose our range. I thought if Mr. Blake came and told you it can't be done Don't you see?" "What if he finds it can?" huskily demanded Knowles. "He can't. I'm sure he can't. If he builds a reservoir, where could he get enough water to fill it?
And the simple little words, waited for so long, remembered so clearly, and coming, at last, so late, did what all Jimmie's more eloquent pleadings had failed to do. Sylvia Knowles, a creature made of vanities, realized that she loved better than all her other vanities her place in this one man's regard. No contemplation of Mr.
Wallace was out, but it was Pauline whom stately Mrs. Morgan Knowles asked for. Pauline was at that moment buried in her darkroom developing photographs, and she ran down just as she was a fact which would have mortified Mrs. Wallace exceedingly if she had ever known it. But Mrs. Morgan Knowles did not seem to mind at all. She liked Pauline's simplicity of manner.
The light made her poor eyes strong for that. She liked to sit there in the evenings, being alone, yet never growing lonesome; there was so much that was pleasant to watch and listen to, as the cool brown twilight came on. If, as Knowles thought, the world was a dreary discord, she knew nothing of it.
Knowles' question as to whether she was content with her existence, she was content simply because she knew no better one. She had not realised before in what a very different fashion other girls were brought up. But now her eyes were open. That simple phrase, "She does not know, poor child, what she is missing," had told her more than many lengthy explanations could have done.
Word Of The Day