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WAR. stands in admiration. Wat. Ah, Warren! here you are before me! Mr. Gervaise, I hope I see you well. War. Mr. Waterfield an old friend of yours, Gervaise, I believe. Ger. I cannot appropriate the honour. Wat. I was twice in your studio at Rome, but it's six months ago, Mr. Gervaise. Ha! A Psyche! Wings suggested by Very skilful! Contour lovely! Altogether antique in pose and expression!
Millard," he told the superintendent, not exactly answering the question. He hung up the receiver, and, opening the door of the booth, said to Mr. Damon: "He isn't there." "Then try Waterfield," was the suggestion; and Tom did so, though he could not imagine why an injured man, such as Mr. Nestor might prove to be, should be taken as far as Waterfield, when the hospital at Shopton was nearer.
Con. Not quite. There's something I want to tell you. Ger. Tell on, child. Con. Oh, thank you! that is how you used to talk to me. Ger. Con. We have seen a good deal of him. Ger. Who is he? Con. Mr. Waterfield. Ger. Well? Con. He says he he he wants me to marry him. Aunt likes him. Ger. And you? Con. I like him too. I don't think I like him enough I dare say I shall.
Constance sits down like a chidden child. Exit COL. G. Con. I must have offended you more than I thought, Arthur! What can I say? It is so stupid to be always saying I am sorry. Ger. No, no. But some one may call. Con. You mean more than that. Will you not let me understand? Ger. Your friend Mr. Waterfield called a few minutes ago. He will be here again presently, I dare say. Con. Indeed! Ger.
But if you ever get over to Waterfield, where I live, come and see me. It's handy to get to by water." "I'll come some day," promised the lad. "Bless my hat band, but I hope so," went on the eccentric individual as he prepared to start his car. Tom completed the remainder of the trip to his house without incident and his father came down to the dock to see the motor-boat.
C. If you mean Constance, I agree with you. She is a most provoking girl. Ger. Mrs. C. I'm very glad you were never so silly as take a fancy to the girl. She would have led you a pretty dance! If you saw how she treats that unfortunate Waterfield! But what's bred in the bone won't out of the flesh. Ger. There's nothing bred in her I would have out, aunt. Mrs.
William Crowell, of Waterfield, State of Maine, printed a Thanksgiving Sermon of the same kind, in which he calls upon his hearers not to allow "excessive sympathies for a few hundred fugitives to blind them so that they may risk increased suffering to the millions already in chains." The Rev. Dr.
"What happened to him?" cried Mr. Damon. "Where is he? Is he a prisoner?" "So it seems," answered Ned. "Wait, I'll read It to you," and he read: "'Whoever picks this up please send word at once to Mr. Swift or to Ned Newton in Shopton, or to Mr. Damon of Waterfield. I am a prisoner, locked in the old factory. Tom Swift'." "Bless my quinine pills!" cried Mr Damon. "What in the world does it mean?
But I'm afraid you've not seen the last of him. Ger. Oh yes, I have! Old Martha would let in anybody, but I've got a man now. William! Enter COL. GERVAISE dressed as a servant. You didn't see the gentleman just gone, I'm afraid, William? Col. G. No, sir. Ger. Don't let in any one calling himself Waterfield. Col. G. No, sir. Ger. I'm going out with Mr. Warren. I shall be back shortly. Col.
We have been over to Waterfield my son and I, and " "Come on, pop!" cried Andy desperately. "We must hurry home. Mom will be worried." "Yes, I think she will. But I can't understand why Sam should say such a thing. However, we are much obliged for the use of your pump, Swift, and "
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