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Eva Saint Clair Andrews felt herself justified in the retort discourteous. "It is better to keep a country store than it is to hoe your own potatoes, barefoot," she responded tartly. "Besides, what about Scott Brenton's father?" Then, catching sight, by way of the mirror, of Catia's irate countenance, she stayed her speech.
"But," argued Mr. Tutt, abandoning his stogy, "isn't the making of a new law the same thing as changing an old law? And isn't changing a law essentially the same thing as breaking it?" "It isn't," replied Miss Wiggin tartly. "For the obvious and simple reason that the legislators who change the laws have the right to do so, while the man who breaks them has not."
"Can't you forget you're a Tommy for a few days?" she said, as soon as the car had cleared the station gates and was safely under way. He noted a touch of irritation. "All right, Peggy dear," said he. "I'll do what I can." "Oliver's here, with his man Chipmunk," she remarked, her eyes on the road. "Oliver? On leave again? How has he managed it?" "You'd better ask him," she replied tartly.
"I doubt if you would have objected to the arms about your neck if they had been Patsy's, you and your 'Seniores'!" Miss Aline observed rather tartly as she was borne off. They were soon all safe in a tiny cove, their feet on the pleasant wet sand, and the dark undefined shapes of the crags overhanging them on every side. A moment more and the boat disappeared into the darkness.
"I had no knowledge you were in the affair," said Wilding. "You should have told me." His manner was brisk to the point of dryness. "However, there is still time to get you out of it. Where is your horse?" "Damn my horse!" answered Tren chard in a passion. "You have spoiled everything!" "On the contrary," said Mr. Wilding tartly, "it seems you had done that very thoroughly before I arrived.
Thomas's loud and, to do her justice, sincere weeping, there came a thunderous knocking on the door, and without waiting to have it answered the sheriff threw it open and stepped in. "Holy smoke!" he cried. "What you knockin' down the cook-stove for?" "'Cause I'm fightin' mad, that's why," returned Mrs. Nitschkan tartly, "and I sure am glad to see you. I been robbed, that's what.
"I don't know how long you expect me to wait on you!" she said tartly, "while you stand by, too lazy even to do the little you know how to. Go and draw a jug of water this minute, and tell the children to wash their hands. I s'pose you're capable of doing that much." Bella, still without explaining, took the jug and went out to the pump.
However, she went on talking of Mrs. Herne, as though to keep her mother from questioning her further. "There is a mystery about Mrs. Herne," she said, coming to the fire; "for I asked Aunt Selina who she was, and she could not tell me." "That is so like Selina," rejoined Mrs. Octagon tartly, "receiving a person of whom she knows nothing." "Oh, she does know a little. Mrs.
This was news to Mrs Polsue, and it did not please her at all. To speak in military phrase, her conjectures upon other folks' business were fed by a double line of communication. "Well, my dear, you won't pry on me going in and out there," she answered tartly, with a sniff.
A New York lady had just taken her seat in a car on a train bound for Philadelphia, when a somewhat stout man sitting just ahead of her lighted a cigar. She coughed and moved uneasily; but the hints had no effect, so she said tartly: "You probably are a foreigner, and do not know that there is a smoking-car attached to the train. Smoking is not permitted here."
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