United States or Bahrain ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
His grave was shown me many years after, but the last time I went to look at the little garden I found that everything had undergone an elegant transformation, and there were no longer any signs of Pep's grave.
The Little Chaplain talked of the afternoon dance, absolutely forgetting his life in the Seminary, and venturing to meet Pèp's eyes. Margalida recalled the Minstrel's glances and the Ironworker's arrogant mien when she had walked past the youths on her way to mass. Her mother sighed. "Alas, señor! alas, señor!"
No; but he is looking all over for your father. Then your name is Pep Clover?" "Yes, sir. But how did you find it out?" "Your father's talking led me to think so. I'm glad I found you for there is money coming to your father. How much I don't know, but quite some." "Money coming to him?" Pep's eyes opened widely. Then suddenly his face fell. "Yer foolin' me." "No, I'm not.
Sometimes when the injured man opened his eyes he saw the motionless and muffled figure of Pèp's wife who sat staring at him with expressionless eyes, moving her lips as if in prayer, and giving vent to profound sighs. No sooner did she encounter the glassy gaze of Febrer than she ran to a small table covered with bottles and glasses.
He avoided approaching Can Mallorquí in his walks, gazing at it from a distance, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the slender figure of Margalida. Since he had become a suitor he could not present himself as a friend. A visit from him might prove embarrassing for Pèp's family, and also he feared that the girl might conceal herself on seeing him approach.
For hunting he preferred the blouse and the velveteen trousers of the peasants. Fishing accustomed him to wearing hempen sandals for climbing rocks and for walking along the beach. A hat like that worn by the youths of the parish of San José covered his head. Pèp's daughter, who was familiar with the island customs, admired the señor's hat with a kind of gratitude.
He imagined Pèp's daughter flitting from place to place preparing his noonday meal, followed by the glances of her mother, a poor peasant woman, silent in her dullness, who did not venture to set her hand to anything pertaining to the señor.
McFettridge's voice rolled deep and sonorous over the audience "we want a popular preacher a preacher that draws a preacher with some pep." "Hear! hear!" cried Mr. Boggs. "Pep's what we want. That's it pep." "Pep," echoed the chairman. "Exactly so, pep." "More than that," continued Mr. McFettridge, "we want a minister that's a good mixer one that stands in with the boys." "Hear! Hear!" cried Mr.
"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed. "Come in! I was afraid it might be some drunken man; there's so many here of a Sunday, trying to get in." "Aunt Betty, don't you know me!" piped up Pep's voice, all in a tremble. Mrs. Linyard turned and surveyed the street urchin eagerly. "Mercy me! if it hain't Tom's boy!" she ejaculated. "Where in the world did you come from?" "Mr. Dare brought me," replied Pep.
Richard's story, as well as Pep's, was soon told, and then Doc Linyard and his wife prepared to accompany the two back to Frying Pan Court. "I'm glad I've got a little money saved," said the old sailor to Richard, as they hurried across town. "Poor Tom shan't want for anything while there's a shot left in the locker. It's funny he wouldn't let us know his condition."
Word Of The Day