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"That is not like you at all, Bébée," said the good old man, as she knelt at his feet on the bricks of his little bare study, where all the books he ever spelt out were treatises on the art of bee-keeping. "My dear, you never were covetous at all, nor did you ever seem to care for the things of the world.
In early days the word "coal," or, as it was also spelt, "cole," was applied to any substance which was used as fuel; hence we have a reference in the Bible to a "fire of coals," so translated when the meaning to be conveyed was probably not coal as we know it. Wood was formerly known as coal, whilst charred wood received the name of charred-coal, which was soon corrupted into charcoal.
He dropped it on the grass, picked it up with as much care as if it was a diamond, and holding it a foot from his nose he had broken his spectacles and was afraid to ask Dorinda for the money to have them repaired he spelt it out to the last word. "Well, by time!" he exclaimed, when he had finished. "He wants to see you at his house this forenoon! And and why, the forenoon's all but gone now!
And now, young Master de Cressi, what is this message of yours?" Hugh thrust his hand into his bosom, and produced a sealed packet which was addressed to "His Grace King Edward of England, sent from Andrew Arnold, priest, by the hand of Hugh de Cressi." "Can you read?" the King asked of Hugh when he had spelt out this superscription.
I had already, and without result, examined the contents of several boxes, when in the package marked 1852, a year which my father spent in Paris, certain letters attracted my attention. They were written upon coarse paper, in a very primitive handwriting and wretchedly spelt. They were signed sometimes Phrasie, sometimes Marquise de Javelle.
The answer spelt out by them was "We, the spirits of the departed, are permitted thus to appear to men." Again I wrote "What object is served by your doing so?" The answer was "It may make men believe in God." I have said I am not a philosopher, therefore I do not mind confessing that I collapsed. I struck my flag at once as to the impossibility of the matter.
But the telephone was now shut off, and the process of connecting had to be gone through again. "Tell Mr. X What is your name?" "Worsfold," I said. "Versfolt?" "Yes." "Tell Mr. X that Mynheer Versfolt " "Who?" "Mynheer Versfolt." "Who?" "Versfolt." "Who?" "How you spell it?" I spelt it. "Mynheer V-e-a-s-f-o-l-t. Veasfolt, Veasfolt, VEASFOLT."
Father Simon, of course, died without family, but Robert married, the family name came to be spelt "Turold," and thus was founded that branch of the family of which the last Robert Turold was now the head. The family tree was complete. Such was the substance of Robert Turold's life quest, and the story had occupied two hours in telling.
"That was an explosion," and before Graham could speak he had hurried on. The great buildings rose dimly, veiled by a perplexing twilight, albeit the rivulet of sky above was now bright with day. He noted many strange features, understanding none at the time; he even spelt out many of the inscriptions in Phonetic lettering.
She fancied Farmer Springrove would have spelt it properly if Edward was his informant, which made Miss Aldclyffe's remark obscure. Women make confidences and then regret them.
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