United States or Greenland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"To be really understood," as Rafford Pyke well says, "to say what she likes, to utter her innermost thoughts in her own way, to cast aside the traditional conventions that gall her and repress her, to have someone near her with whom she can be quite frank, and yet to know that not a syllable of what she says will be misinterpreted or mistaken, but rather felt just as she feels it all how wonderfully sweet is this to every woman, and how few men are there who can give it to her!"
Lieutenant Pyke was especially urgent about the matter, and proposed that a descent should be made on some of the towns, which he and his brave troops, he asserted, could capture without difficulty. On reaching the coast, we brought up in a small bay with a town on its shore. We had not been long at anchor, when in the evening a boat came off, manned by natives, with three Spaniards in her.
About her servants, and about prices, and about dress, and about her dinner parties, Aunt Belle chattered to Rosalie; and about Uncle Pyke, what he liked, and what he didn't like, and what he did in the City, and what he did at his club, and about her hosts of friends and their matrimonial experiences, Aunt Belle chattered to her, confiding in her and telling her all kinds of things she but dimly understood precisely as if she were a grown-up young woman.
"They are breaking the laws of their country," observed Dick to me, "and they deserve punishment. For my part, I don't like this way of doing things; but if Mr Pyke is as good as his word, and was to land with his marines and attack the town, it would be more ship-shape and honourable."
'Hear this discontented grumbler. Isn't it enough to make a man swear never to help him in his plots and schemes again? Isn't it an infernal shame? Pyke asked Pluck whether it was not an infernal shame, and Pluck asked Pyke; but neither answered. 'Isn't it the truth? demanded Verisopht. 'Wasn't it so? 'Wasn't it so! repeated Sir Mulberry. 'How would you have had it?
If balked in anything, she is sure to lose her health and temper; and we, her servants, suffer, as usual, during the angry fits of our Queen. Can you help us, Mr. Spectator, who know everything, to read this riddle for her, and set at rest all our minds? We find in her list, Mr. Berty, Mr. Smith, Mr. Pike, Mr. Tyler who may be Mr. Bertie, Mr. Smyth, Mr. Pyke, Mr. Tiler, for what we know.
Uncle Pyke Pounce crimson, purply blotched, infuriated, kept from his food, blowing up at last at the parlour-maid: "Bring in the next course! Bring in the next course! Watyer staring at? Watyer waiting for? Watyer listening to? Rubbish. Pack of rubbish." The parlour-maid flies out on the gust of the explosion. Rosalie finishes her sentence while the gust inflates again.
Now next term, when you are one of the mistresses at Oakwood House and living at their table and you have soup, you'll be able to say for you must speak up when you are with them, dear child, and not be shy you'll be able to tell them what delicious soup you always get at your Uncle Colonel Pyke Pounce's. Won't you, Pyke?" Be sure to, dear.
Now what do you think? In my house, everywhere, even in the kitchen, we've got this new electric light! Your kind uncle Pyke had it put in for me. Installed, as they call it. Now, just fancy, all you have is a little brass knob by each door, and you just touch a little switch, and there's your light! No matches, no trouble, just click! and there you are.
It was at dinner at the glittering table in the splendid dining-room of the magnificent house in Notting Hill, Rosalie there on the half-term week-end of her last term, that the frightful thing was done. At dinner: Uncle Pyke Pounce bathing in his soup; beautiful Laetitia elegantly toying with hers; Aunt Belle beaming over her solid silver spoon at Rosalie. "Try that soup, dear child.
Word Of The Day