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Arty and he get up picnics, and when we're out on the Palisades he says to me you know, sometimes he almost makes me think he is sleepy, though I do believe he just sneaks off under a tree and talks to Mrs. Arty or reads a magazine but I was saying: he always says to me, 'Well, sister, I suppose you want to mousey round and dream by yourself you won't talk to a growly old bear like me.
Wrenn. And Nelly: "That's so." The whole table nodded gravely, "Yes, that's so." "I'm sure" Istra smiled at Mrs. Arty "that it's because a woman is running things. Now think what cat-and-dog lives you'd lead if Mr. Wrenn or Mr. Popple, was it? were ruling." They applauded. They felt that she had been humorous.
Connie was sobbing quietly with her arms round Harry's neck, holding his head closely to her as he bent over her chair; all the while her foot beat time. Arty had suddenly grown moody again and sat with bent head, his cigar gone out in his listless hand.
They came in, a pathetic little procession, three golden-haired couples, holding one another's hands. First, Arty and Emmy, then Catty and Baby, then Willie and Dick, all solemn and shy. Baby turned his back on the strange aunt and burrowed into his mother's lap. They were all silent but Dick.
There was a disappointed and puzzled look in his face as he lifted his eyes to mine. He failed to secure the object of his pursuit. "What is it, sweet?" My eyes followed his as they turned upon the ground. He stooped again, and caught at something; and again looked up in a perplexed, half-wondering way. "Why, Arty!" I exclaimed, catching him up in my arms. "It's only your shadow! Foolish child!"
What do you ask for these?" "We have set no price upon them; but think that they are richly worth five or six dollars apiece." "Five or six dollars!" ejaculated Mrs. , in well feigned surprise, handing back; suddenly, the capes. "O! no, Miss; American goods don't bring arty such prices." "Then what will you give for them, Madam?"
"They all laughed agin, and Bill Chambers laughed so 'arty that 'e joggled Peter Gubbins's arm and upset 'is beer. "'Laugh away, ses Bob, pretending to get savage. 'Them that laughs best laughs last, mind. I'll 'ave that watch now, just to spite you all. "'Ow are you going to get it, Bob? ses Sam Jones, jeering. "'Never you mind, mate, ses Bob, stamping 'is foot; 'I'm going to win it fair.
In the other corner another strange boy was sitting with Arty Sloane. . . a jolly looking little chap, with a snub nose, freckled face, and big, light blue eyes, fringed with whitish lashes . . . probably the DonNELL boy; and if resemblance went for anything, his sister was sitting across the aisle with Mary Bell.
If they want to have any dealings with that beast Dan, who's not fit to speak to, let them go themselves. Arty, it's very wrong; you mustn't do it." "But how can I help it?" said the boy, looking frightened and ashamed. "Oh, must I always be blamed by every one," he said, putting his hands to his eyes. "It isn't my sin, Walter, it's theirs. They made me."
"Taken me with you, and Kenrick, and Power!" said Eden, opening his large eyes; "how kind of you, Walter! but only fancy Power or Kenrick walking with me!" "Why not, Arty? Power's going to ask you to-morrow to sit in his study, and learn your lessons there whenever you like." "Power ask me!" "You! Why not?" "Why, he's such a swell." "Well, then, you must try and be a swell too."
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