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Max was knocking with characteristic loudness at the hermit's door. "Make me a willow cabin at your gate," quoted Mr. Magee, looking at the hermit's shack with interest. "U-m-m," replied Miss Norton. Thus beautiful sentiments frequently fare, even at the hands of the most beautiful. Mr. Magee abandoned his project of completing the speech. The door of the hermit's abode opened before Mr.
After five minutes I says, 'Are you sure you don't notice nothin, William? I observed a risin' color in his face. "'U-m-m y-a-as, says he most sarcastical; 'I notice somethin', Ezekiel a strong smell of peppermint not escaped you, perhaps?
"U-m-m, where d'ye get hold of his war record?" "Why why he he has told us about the things they did his company." "Um hum," Old John was stroking his nose. "But, if he's civil engineer, an' out of a job, you might tell him to stop in a minute after he gets the right color of a toboggan cap picked out."
"You mean the crackle of the kindling-wood and the snap of the coal as the flames begin to lick it?" I asked. "U-m-m, yes; the crackle of the wood and the snap of the coal," said the girl in a dreamy tone. "Home!" I cried, quick as a flash. "It makes me think of home of the home I used to have," and my eyes blurred. "Here, too! Home!" she replied softly.
Perfectly simply too as the old Butler had promised, the four dog dishes, heaping to the brim, loomed in prim line upon the kitchen table waiting for distribution. "U-m-m," sniffed Flame. "Nothing but mush! Mush! All over the world to-day I suppose while their masters are feasting at other people's houses on puddings and and cigarettes! How the poor darlings must suffer! Locked in sheds!
The kettle of stewing goose was sending forth a most delicious appetizing odour. David lifted the lid to season it, and stir it with the cooking spoon. Jamie and Andy sniffed. "U-m-m!" from Jamie. "Oh, she smells fine!" Andy breathed. "Seems like I can't wait for un!" Jamie declared. "She's done!" David at length announced. "Make the tea, Andy."
"I don't know, I'm sure," confessed the Youngish Girl, snuffingly. "I guess I must be tired." "U-m-m," said the Traveling Salesman. After a moment or two he heard the sharp little click of a watch. "Oh, dear me!" fretted the Youngish Girl's somewhat smothered voice. "I didn't realize we were almost two hours late. Why, it will be dark, won't it, when we get into Boston?"
'Old man, supposing young Trent to be alive and in duress somewhere, do you imagine that one man, or even two, could keep him day and night? 'U-m-m no. 'Well, I said to Miss Jenrys an absurd thing. I said the letter might have been suggested by seeing those reward notices; but those notices did not give Mr. Trent's full name, and street, and number.
"U-m-m," said McNabb, and his lips twitched at the corners. "And on top of all that you can smile!" "Yup, isn't it funny? I can even grin." "But, Dad, will it ruin you? Not that I care a bit, about the money. We can be just as happy, maybe happier, without it. I'm not the little fool you think I am.
Besides, do you think that a party of men who have the daring and the ability to keep a prisoner three weeks safely hidden will release him for a paltry ten thousand, knowing his father to be a multi-millionaire? 'U-m-m just so. And how do they keep him? 'Well, to me that letter is very suggestive. It hints at a possible situation.
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