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Esther's Sunday best was a blue, voile, a lovely blue, the colour of her eyes when in soft shadow. It was made with a long straight skirt slightly high at the waist, round neck and elbow sleeves and with it went soft, wrinkly gloves and a wide hat trimmed with cornflowers. She knew that she looked well in it and the doctor would be in church.
Our absurdly short little locomotive, drawing our absurdly long train, went boring in and out of a wrinkly shoulder-seam of the Tyrols like a stubby needle going through a tuck. I think in thirty miles we threaded thirty tunnels; after that I was practically asphyxiated and lost count. If I ever take that journey again I shall wear a smoke helmet and be comfortable.
How neatly the fleece comes off almost in one piece, as if it was a jacket!" "I guess that was a smooth-skinned sheep," laughed Donald, "or the shearer never could have done it so quickly." The man who was shearing overheard him. "It was a smooth-skinned one," he called. "Still, even the wrinkly Merinos loose their coats pretty fast. Watch and see. I have one right here." Donald watched.
Something, indeed, in the peculiar set of the Young Electrician's jaw warned you quite definitely that if you should ever even so much as hint the small, sentimental word "lure" to him he would most certainly "swat" you on first impulse for a maniac, and on second impulse for a liar smiling at you all the while in the strange little wrinkly tissue round his eyes.
"I have an idea but first let me give you some tea No do help yourself," then he paused awkwardly, and she at once proceeded to fill her cup. Binko had condescended to emerge from his basket under the table. Tea-time was an hour when he allowed himself to take an interest in human beings. "Oh! you darling!" the girl cried, putting down her cup. "You fat, lovely, wrinkly darling!"
I'd liefer mother the bees and foxes as none takes thought on. I dunna like babies much all bald and wrinkly. Martha said as having 'em made folk pray to die, but as it was worth anything to get one. But I dunna think so. I think they'm ugly. I think you're a cruel beast, Jack Reddin, to burn my bees, and they so comforble, knowing I was taking care on 'em.
She says things under her breath when she thinks nobody will hear, and she makes up my bed so it is all wrinkly. I shouldn't be surprised if she stole, too." Then the door opened and a white-capped maid, with a rather pretty face, evidently of the same class as Gladys Mann, appeared. "This is my sister, Miss Maria, Irene," said Evelyn. The maid nodded and said something inarticulate.
Why didn't you do that, eh?" "There are several reasons," replied the mud turtle. "Oh, wilt thou tell them to us?" asked Alice, romantically. "Not now," replied the fairy prince, "but I will later. Return here to-morrow and I will tell you," and he stretched first one wrinkly leg, and then the other, and went to sleep.
He was short and stocky, red-faced, somewhere near the fifties, and a yellowish-gray mustache hung over tobacco blackened lips. Overalls, a checked blue and white shirt, open at the throat, boots into which the trousers legs were loosely jammed comprised his attire. He was bareheaded and the sun glistened on a wrinkly forehead, topped by a thin sprinkling of hair.
"Now, mamma, you didn't see my old ones, they ain't red and blue, nor stretchy, an' my stockin's come down all the time. See how wrinkly they are," and he held up a dusty little shoe with a sadly demoralized stocking above it, rich in holes as well as wrinkles. The stocking had been torn on a nail, he volubly explained.
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