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Night has come down since she left Delancey street, carrying the heavy bundle of new-made shirts. The streets are lighted up, and are alive with bustle. Heedless what course she takes, unnoticed, uncared-for by any in the great ocean of humanity whose waves surge about her, she wanders on, and by-and-by turns into Broadway.
There was something far more sinister in this passionless figure, holding his hand on the key that let loose such crazy forces, than in the poor central whirligig who merely set the rhythm of the convulsions. The dancers were all dressed in white caftans or in the blue shirts of the lowest classes.
It'll take a day or two to fix up your clothes," said his mother. "All right, mother." "I don't know but you ought to have some new shirts. You haven't got but two except the one you have on." "I can get along, mother. Father hasn't got any money to spend for me. By the time I want some new shirts, I'll buy them myself." "Where do you think of going, Harry? Have you any idea?" "No, mother.
And who was Mr. Teale, and where did he come from, and why was he traveling alone? Standing there in the evening twilight, on the rough brick walk in front of the Palace Hotel, to that group of rough-handed men in unkempt locks and woolen shirts and overalls, to those shirt-sleeved, well-oiled, red-faced bar-keepers, with the landlord in the center, the passenger told his story.
That they might be as little encumbered as possible in their flight, they left their blankets behind them, and although it was bitter December weather, they took to the woods and prairies with only their calico shirts and leggings for covering. We can readily believe that hope and exultation kept them comfortably warm until they reached an asylum among their friends.
All three, however, touched their wide-brimmed hats in unmistakable respect. They were clad in buckskin shirts and leather "chaps," and each had his revolver upon his hip. The girl lost the rest of the conversation between her uncle and Lablache, for her attention was turned to the men. "Well?" she asked shortly, as the men stood before her.
They wore brown leggings and riding-breeches and khaki shirts. They carried their rifles at the trail and strode up to us with the graceful gait of those accustomed to the outdoor life. "Awstralians!" said some one. "An' the corporal!" Immediately our men roused up and gathered round. "Where's yer boss?" asked the tall Colonial. "The adjutant is over here," I answered.
He tried to relieve his brother, but was ignominiously prevented by the Camisaders who made their way to his camp at night, wearing white shirts over their armour, and killed eight hundred of his soldiers. William threw in his lot, once for all, with the Northern provinces, receiving a hearty welcome from Holland and Zealand, states both maintaining a gallant struggle.
"Ah, Mariquita," she said, "the linen is not as fine as when we were young. And thou art glad to get the shirts of the Americans now. My poor Faquita!" "Coarse things," said Mariquita, disdainfully. Then a silence fell, so sudden and so suggestive that Doña Herminia felt it and turned instinctively to Mariquita. "What is it?" she asked rapidly. "Is there news to-day? Of what?"
"Did I know, when I promised, that I should find you all shaky-pale, as white as my shirts when he comes back from the wash?" "I am quite myself again," she pleaded faintly. "I am quite fit to have the bandage taken off." "What! you know better than I do? Which of us is surgeon-optic you or me? No more of this. Come under my arms! Come into the odder rooms!"
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