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A study of Colonel Starbottle's face during this speech would have puzzled a better physiognomist than Mr. Pyecroft.
That's some 'igh-born suckling on the destroyer. Destroyer signals: 'Care not. All will be known later. What merry beehive's broken loose now?" "What odds! We've done our little job." "Why why it's Two Six Seven!" Here Pyecroft dropped from the rail among the fishy nets and shook the Agatha with heavings.
De Peyster's housekeeper, and Miss Harmon, here, who has just returned from a quiet summer in Maine to attend her cousin's funeral. The fact is, gentlemen, to come right to the point, there is to be no funeral." "No funeral!" cried Mr. Mayfair. "No funeral!" ran through the crowd. "No funeral," repeated Mr. Pyecroft. "The reason, gentlemen, is that a great mistake has been made. Mrs.
He turned slowly about, for their better observation; then grinned and lowered his voice: "It's young De Peyster's; found it in his room, and helped myself. Burned my clergyman's outfit in the kitchen range before any one was up; best to leave no clues lying around." He, too, had come to talk plans, and quickly Mr. Pyecroft settled them.
"Matilda invited us for the summer," said Mr. Pyecroft apologetically. "For the summer!" repeated Jack in dismay. Then he spoke to Matilda, caustically: "I suppose it's all right, Matilda, but has it been your fixed custom, when we've been away for the summer, to fill the house with your family?" "Please, Mr. Jack, please," imploringly began Matilda, and could utter nothing further. "Great God!"
'You can't shine corny feet and he hasn't had his breakfast. 'I haven't had mine either, I said. 'Breakfast for two more, uncle, Pyecroft sang out. 'Go out an' buy it then, was the answer, 'or else it's half-rations. Pyecroft turned to Leggatt, gave him his marketing orders, and despatched him with the coppers. 'I have got four new tyres on my car, I began impressively. 'Yes, said Mr.
"It takes 'em at all ages. Look at you know," said Pyecroft. "Who?" I asked. "A service man within eighteen months of his pension, is the party you're thinkin' of," said Pritchard. "A warrant 'oose name begins with a V., isn't it?" "But, in a way o' puttin' it, we can't say that he actually did desert," Pyecroft suggested. "Oh, no," said Pritchard.
"A great many cars thinks they can take this road; but they all come back. We walks after 'em at our convenience." "Meanin' that the other jaunty is now pursuin' us on his lily feet?" said Pyecroft. "Precisely." Get out!" The man obeyed with alacrity. "See those spars up-ended over there? I mean that wickyup-thing. Hop-poles, then, you rural blighter. Keep on fetching me hop-poles at the double."
"I never saw the thing before!" "What's that?" cried the detective. "She's trying to hold out for more money," explained Mr. Pyecroft. From behind the detective's broad back he gave Matilda a warning look; then said softly: "Of course, it's the letter, isn't it, sister?" Matilda thought only of saving the hour. The day would have to save itself. "Yes," she said.
Morshed he'd follow him more sang frays, which is French for dead, drunk, or damned. Barrin' 'is paucity o' language, there wasn't a blemish on Jules. But what I wished to imply was, when we climbed into the back parts of the car, our Lootenant Morshed says to me, "I doubt if I'd flick my cigar-ends about too lavish, Mr. Pyecroft.
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