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'I stand the Honourable Mrs T. on my bench in this corner against the wall, where her blue eyes can shine upon you, pursued Miss Wren, doing so, and making two little dabs at him in the air with her needle, as if she pricked him with it in his own eyes; 'and I defy you to tell me, with Mrs T. for a witness, what you have come here for. 'To see Hexam's sister.
"Is the doctor here or Steward Griffin?" spoke the lady, to the room at large, looking beyond the lieutenant and toward the single soldier attendant present. "The doctor and the steward are both at home just now, Miss Wren," said Blakely. "May I offer you a chair?" Miss Wren preferred to stand. "I wish to speak with Steward Griffin," said she again.
He was just a trifle bigger than Jenny Wren but not at all like Jenny, for while Jenny's tail usually is cocked up in the sauciest way, Seep-Seep's tail is never cocked up at all. In fact, it bends down, for Seep-Seep uses his tail just as the members of the Woodpecker family use theirs. He was dressed in grayish-brown above and grayish-white beneath.
As it did not appear, I scrutinized the bank of the little run, covered with logs and brush, a few rods farther up. Presently I saw the wren curtsying and gesticulating beneath an old log.
Originally the promoters of the church treated for a plot of land about 20 yards above the present site; but the negotiations were broken off, and afterwards they bought Wren Cottage and a stable adjoining, situated about a quarter of a mile northwards.
Wren to his, chamber, to talk; where he observed, that these people are all of them a broken sort of people, that have not much to lose, and therefore will venture all to make their fortunes better: that Sir Thomas Osborne is a beggar, having 11 of L1200 a-year, but owes above L10,000.
At noon comes my Lord Hinchingbroke, and Sidney, and Sir Charles Harbord, and Roger Pepys, and dined with me; and had a good dinner, and very merry with us all the afternoon, it being a farewell to Sidney. 14th. At noon to dinner with Mr. Wren to Lambeth, with the Archbishop of Canterbury; the first time I was ever there, and I have long longed for it.
A little, bright, black-eyed old lady like a wren comes running out of the house, and chirps: "O Bud O my honey boy! Is he dead?" "I reckon not, Miss Lucy," says Bud raising himself up on the mattress as she runs up to the wagon, and trying to act like everything was all a joke. She was jest high enough to kiss him over the edge of the wagon box.
When the Eagle nearly reached the ground, the other birds set up a cry of greeting. "Hail, King Eagle!" they sang. "How high you flew! How near the sun! Did he not scorch your Majesty's feathers? Hail, mighty king!" and they made a deafening chorus. But the Eagle stopped them. "The Wren is your king, not I," he said. "He mounted higher than I did." "The Wren? Ha-ha! The Wren!
Thus the colt, and the lamb, are much more perfect animals than the blind puppy, and the naked rabbit; and the chick of the pheasant, and the partridge, has more perfect plumage, and more perfect eyes, as well as greater aptitude to locomotion, than the callow nestlings of the dove, and of the wren.
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