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Garrison will never miss us," suggested Shorty. "Do you mean to meech?" asked Bert, with some indignation. "That's about it," was the reply. "What's the harm?" "Why, you know it ain't right; I'm not going to do it if you are." And Bert really meant what he said.
The end of her gray braid hung out behind one ear, her waist hung out of her belt, and even the buttons on her shoes hung out of the buttonholes in shameless laziness. Mr. Meech did not need tucking in; he needed letting out. He seemed to have shrunk in the wash of life.
Moseley's embrace, and humming a waltz, stepped briskly about the limited space, to the consternation of the onlookers, who hastened to tuck their feet under their chairs. Mr. Meech, looking as if he were being backed into eternity, stumbled on the rug and clutched violently at the table-cover.
When the green book got too heavy to hold, or his eyes grew too tired to look at the many magazines with which the judge supplied him, he would lie still and watch the little drama going on next door. Mrs. Meech was a large, untidy woman who always gave the impression of needing to be tucked up.
During 1884 and 1885 the regular work of the Peking mission occupied almost the whole of his time, the Rev. S. E. Meech being in England on furlough, and most of his duties therefore falling upon Mr. Gilmour. During his stay in England he had attended many of the Salvation Army meetings, and had caught much of their spirit.
Moseley, "place your hand upon my shoulder." Mr. Meech did so with self-conscious gravity and serious apprehensions as to the revelations to follow. "Now," continued Mr. Moseley, "I place my arm about your waist thus." "Surely not," objected Mr. Meech, in embarrassment. But Mr. Moseley was relentless. "I assure you it is true. And the other hand " He stopped in grave deliberation.
"You must be careful with your earnings," the judge warned. "It is not easy to live within an income." "Easier within it than without it, sir," Sandy answered from deep experience. After the Lexington episode Sandy had shunned Martha somewhat; when he did go to see her, he found she was sick in bed. "She never was strong," said Mrs. Meech, sitting limp and disconsolate on the porch. "Mr.
In the little Hard-Shell Baptist Church the congregation had assembled and services had begun before Mr. Meech arrived. He appeared singularly flushed and breathless, and caused some confusion by giving out the hymn which had just been sung. It was not until he became stirred by the power of his theme that he gained composure. In the front seat Dr. Fenton drowsed through the discourse.
The Methodist brother, who had been growing more and more overcharged with suppressed knowledge, could contain himself no longer. "That's not right at all!" he burst forth irritably. "You don't hook your arm around like that! You hold the left arm out and saw it up and down like this." He snatched the bewildered Mr. Meech from Mr.
In his downfall he carried his instructor with him, and a deluge of tracts from the table above followed. In the midst of the confusion there was a sound from the church next door. Mr. Meech sat up among the debris and listened. It was the opening hymn for prayer-meeting. The events of the afternoon, stirring as they had been, were soon dismissed from Sandy's mind.
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