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Wylie lifted her package over the counter and went to the door with her to point out the direction. "This is Fourth. The next up is Fifth. The next wide one is Sixth and you can read it on the lamp-post, too." "Isn't that convenient!" exclaimed Susan. "What a lovely city this is!" "There's worse," said Mr. Wylie, not to seem vain of his native town.
I don't wish to hurry you into a snap decision, which you may repent later, only either the police or I must have that package within an hour. It is for you to say which of us is to get it. Suppose we run over to the Powhatan and discuss the matter calmly over a bottle of Glengarry?
I've got the stuff here, look!" holding up the package he was carrying "or a chance for me to do some fly catchin' with me bloomin' tickle tootsies?" The man in the Cingalese costume had vanished from the doorway of the adjoining house, and, catching the boy by the arm, Cleek hurried him to it and drew him into the dark passage.
"Pardon before punishing the other!" exclaimed the Prince, angrily. The other! Yanski Varhely instinctively clinched his fist, thinking, with rage, of that package of letters which he had held in his hands, and which he might have destroyed if he had known. It was true: how was pardon possible while Menko lived?
That night Kimberley received a package containing the papers and a note from the earl congratulating him on the magnanimous manner in which he had acted, but declaring that he felt compelled to return the documents. This added another drop to the bitterness of Kimberley's cup. He could well nigh have died for shame; he could well nigh have died for pity of himself. V. Kimberley's Wedding Gift
He ripped the package open, and disclosed perhaps a dozen official-looking documents, besides a miscellaneous number of others. He took up the first of the papers, glanced through it hurriedly, then tossed it to the pseudo chauffeur. "Tear it up, and tear it up SMALL!" he ordered tersely. The next, after examining it as he had the first, he tossed to the other man. "Go ahead!" curtly. "Work fast!
He had evidently delivered the package, for, as he came up, he made no sign of taking anything out of his pocket. "Well?" said Hurstwood. "I gave it to her." "My wife?" "Yes, sir." "Any answer?" "She said it was high time." Hurstwood scowled fiercely. There was no more to be done upon that score that night.
She bore no trace now of the seriousness of the night before; all smiles and red-cheeked eagerness, she radiated the very joy of being. "Enter Mrs. Pink!" she cried. She had a brown valise, a fat bundle, a flat, square package wrapped in paper, a coat and a parasol. "You said trunks were taboo," she explained. "I only had one valise and I couldn't nearly get everything in.
The package of receipted bills gorgeously done up in Christmas style was not forgotten, and brought forth the predicted satisfaction, even if there was considerable laughing also. "Handle this with care," laughed Uncle Dick, as he gayly lifted out the tiny basket of eggs. "This is one slice of the pie at least that you can eat."
"Truly, I never had such a good time before in all my life." "That's just the way I feel," nodded Constance, as she tied an astounding bow of red ribazine about an oblong package that suggested a doll, and consulted a fat note book, lying wide spread on the library table, for the address of the prospective possessor. "Marjorie, will you ever forget how happy Charlie was last year?"
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