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And one while he was allays after Miss Nancy, and then it all went off again, like a smell o' hot porridge, as I may say. That wasn't my way when I went a-coorting." "Ah, but mayhap Miss Nancy hung off, like, and your lass didn't," said Ben. "I should say she didn't," said Mr. Macey, significantly. "Before I said "sniff", I took care to know as she'd say "snaff", and pretty quick too.
Macey, tailor and parish-clerk, the latter of which functions rheumatism had of late obliged him to share with a small-featured young man who sat opposite him, held his white head on one side, and twirled his thumbs with an air of complacency, slightly seasoned with criticism. He smiled pityingly, in answer to the landlord's appeal, and said "Aye, aye; I know, I know; but I let other folks talk.
"I certainly wouldn't care to try force," remarked Mr. Macey dryly. "These young men are too well developed." Dave was now on the floor, getting off his shoes. "What are you going to do, old fellow?" asked Prescott. "Going to follow you as far as the top of the spire," replied Darrin quietly. "Who knows but I may be able to be of some use?" Dave stepped out first on the little iron balcony.
The expert was away, and would not be home, or available, for three days to come at least. "Never mind, Macey," laughed the friend, consolingly. "It'll wait. No one in Gridley will take the scarf. It's safe up there." "Huh! Is it, though?" snorted the real estate man. "At any minute the strong wind may unwind it and send it whirling off over the town.
"She trips along with her little steps, so as nobody can see how she goes it's like as if she had little wheels to her feet. She doesn't look a day older nor last year: she's the finest-made woman as is, let the next be where she will." "I don't heed how the women are made," said Mr. Macey, with some contempt. "They wear nayther coat nor breeches: you can't make much out o' their shapes."
Macey, who felt very well satisfied with this attack on youthful presumption; "you're right there, Tookey: there's allays two 'pinions; there's the 'pinion a man has of himsen, and there's the 'pinion other folks have on him. There'd be two 'pinions about a cracked bell, if the bell could hear itself." "Well, Mr.
Or the gale may tear it to pieces, scattering the diamonds over a whole block, and not one in ten of the stones would ever be found." Mrs. Macey sat in the runabout, a picture of mute misery. Herr Schimmelpodt elbowed his way through the outskirts of the crowd and stood absorbing his share in the local excitement. "Ach! I am afraid dere is von thing dot you gan't do, Bresgott," smiled the German.
He left the rope fastened above, for whoever cared to go and get it. Mr. Macey, ashen faced and shaking, stared at Dick in a sort of fascination. "I -I got it," said Dick, when he could control his voice. "Here it is, safe in my pocket." "I forgot to ask," rejoined Mr. Macey tremulously. "I'm sick of that bauble.
But when, some year or two afterwards, Moby Dick was fairly sighted from the mast-heads, Macey, the chief mate, burned with ardor to encounter him; and the captain himself being not unwilling to let him have the opportunity, despite all the archangel's denunciations and forewarnings, Macey succeeded in persuading five men to man his boat.
Presently a woman friend drove home with Mrs. Macey, while her husband remained to push the search. He kept at it until two o'clock in the morning, half a hundred men and boys remaining in the search. Then Mr. Macey gave it up. The gaudy, foolish trifle was worth about five thousand dollars. As the night wore on Mr.
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