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Updated: June 4, 2025
Aylett: "Dear Sir, Your favor of the 15th, enclosed in one from my sister, reached me this morning." Then followed the expose of Frederic Chilton's misdeeds, which Winston had transferred to his own epistle to Mabel, as the leading argument in his refusal to sanction her engagement. Mabel read it through without flinching; then turned over to the first page and put her finger upon a paragraph.
He repeated it again when Lancelot and Dick came below, and it was with difficulty that we could attend to the duties of the ship, thinking of the means to be taken for rescuing those for whom we had searched so long. Mr Aylett, however, gave us no hope of success.
"Who was the lady here mentioned?" Mr. Aylett shrugged his fine shoulders. "I have never interested myself to inquire. Beyond the statement of your friend's rascality, the story was nothing to me." "Herbert!" The ringing call sharp and clear checked the pianists in the middle of a bar. "Step here a moment, if you please!"
Aylett had exchanged her evening dress for a cashmere wrapper, the dark-blue ground of which was enlivened by a Grecian pattern of gold and scarlet; her unbound hair draped her shoulders, and framed her arch face, as she threaded the bronze ripples with her fingers.
Rosa laughed, with a saucy retort, and turned into her chamber. Mabel entered her brother's, and without speaking, took the seat he offered. She was to be sentenced, and she must reserve her forces to sustain the pain without a groan. "You saw Jenkyns did you not?" began Mr. Aylett, with the manner of one at peace with himself, and those of his fellow-men whose existence he chose to acknowledge.
Written notices had been sent out, far and near, the day before, announcing that the services would begin at two o'clock, but when the Aylett party arrived at a quarter of an hour before the time specified, there was no appearance of regular exercises of any kind. A dozen carriges besides theirs were clustered about the front gate, and a long line of saddle-horses tethered to the fence.
Aylett. "He can not last much longer." "And all because a pretty girl said him 'Nay!" pursued the wife. Mr. Aylett and Mr. Dorrance made characteristic responses in a breath. "The greater blockhead he!" said one. The other, "His was never a rightly balanced mind, I suspect. I always thought him weak and impressionable." "Are your adjectives synonymous?" asked Mrs. Aylett playfully. "Generally!"
While the captains were at dinner on the quarter-deck, however, the frigate blew up, and about 200 men, including five captains, were lost. "I was eating my dinner with the rest," writes the surgeon, Richard Browne, "when the mainmasts blew out, and fell upon Captains Aylett, Bigford, and others, and knocked them on the head; I saved myself by getting astride the mizzenmast."
Aylett, charitably, but laughing at the conceit the low, musical laugh that was at once girlish in its gleefulness, yet perfectly well-bred. Mr. Aylett heard it from his stand on the parlor-rug, and sent a quick glance in that direction. It was slow in returning to the group surrounding him.
Aylett Cotton, the Clubwoman's Franchise League; Mrs. Robert A. Dean, the Woman Suffrage Party; Miss Maud Younger, the Wage Earners' League and Mrs. Deering the College League. This committee was formed at the suggestion of Mrs.
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