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Instead of the old dingy dress that she went to sleep in, she now had a beautiful yellow one; and, instead of crawling among the leaves, she flew up and away into the sweet spring air to play with the sunbeams and flowers; and the little children called her a butterfly. Five Little Indian Brothers Once there were five little brothers living in Farmer Lane's barn.
Lane's enemies were confident they had him beaten as a candidate for the Senate. He had done certain things that rendered him unpopular with his constituents. So certain were they that they did not think it necessary to make an effort, and, in consequence, remained inactive. Not so with Lane.
Did your uncle return?" "No. I had a feelin' that somethin' was wrong. I looked into the bedroom an' then opened the door into the small smoking-room. The odor of chloroform met me. I found the button an' flashed on the light." Except the sobbing breath of an unnerved woman no slightest sound could be heard in the court-room but Lane's quiet, steady voice.
"What do you say, Budge?" "Same here," agreed Roger. The long-drawn shriek of a locomotive rose from the valley-bottom. "There's the five-ten!" ejaculated Lane. "I pity Whittington when his dad finds how things have gone." "Percy isn't the only one who needs sympathy," said Spurling, soberly. "What about his father?" "I'm sorry for 'em both," was Lane's comment.
"Colonel, your name is Dennis," replied Lane, with merciless humor. "It serves you right." The little man evidently found relief in his confession and in Lane's censure. "I'm cured forever," he declared vehemently. "And say, Lane, I've been looking for you. Have you been at my rooms lately you know to take a peep?" "I have not," replied Lane, turning sharply. A slight chill went over him.
Prove to me that the Swede stayed there an' I'll say he's as liable as Hull to be guilty. He could 'a' throwed a rope round that stone curlycue stickin' out up there above us, swung acrost to the fire escape here, an' walked right in on Cunningham." Lane's quick glance swept the abutment above and the distance between the buildings. "You're shoutin', Cole. He could 'a' done just that.
Lane followed that glance and saw Swann. Apparently he did not notice Lorna, and was absorbed in the dance with his own partner, Helen Wrapp. This byplay further excited Lane's curiosity. On the whole, it was an ungraceful, violent mob, almost totally lacking in restraint, whirling, kicking, swaying, clasping, instinctively physical, crude, vulgar and wild.
And Philip wondered whether the boat went on for ever through one pillared alley after another or came at last to some strange mansion. One day a good fortune befell him, for he hit upon Lane's translation of The Thousand Nights and a Night.
"Well, well, we'll say no more about it," replied Wood; "and, by way of changing the subject, let me advise you on no account to fly to strong waters for consolation, Joan. One nail drives out another, it's true; but the worst nail you can employ is a coffin-nail. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard."
Miss Lane's party arrived by train at 12 o'clock. By that time I had discovered that I had not bought freedom with my subscription, nor earned the title of noble by walking to the village. I was expected to spend the rest of the day helping to amuse Miss Lane's picnic party. Kitty and I met them when they arrived. Miss Lane, the aunt, is a very plump lady with nice white hair.
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