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Updated: May 23, 2025
Just as her father's money had caused Ruth to plunge into a whirl of pleasures which she did not really enjoy, merely for the novelty of it, so the death of John Bannister and his own consequent accession to the throne had upset Bailey's balance and embarked him on an orgy of speculation quite foreign to his true nature.
"Besides, I'd like to see you work the breeches buoy." "You'll see all you want of that in the morning," replied the coast patrol. "We can't do much until daylight. Are you afraid to go back alone?" "No," replied Larry. Back he trudged to Bailey's cabin. It was about three o'clock when he reached there, and he found the fisherman sitting beside the table, drinking some hot tea.
We re-visited Paris, but spent most of our three weeks in a tour through Belgium, finishing up at Brussels. When we reached London I received a letter from my friend, W. R. Gill, Secretary of Bailey's railway, the Belfast and Northern Counties.
He told me he was going to, but I hoped he would think better of it. But apparently there are no limits to Bailey's stupidity." "Yes, Bailey came to the studio. He seemed troubled about this yacht party." "Did he advise you to forbid me to go?" "Well, yes; he did." "And now you have come to do it?" "Not at all. I told Bailey that you were not the sort of woman one forbade to do things."
Poor soul, for once his butler eyes had been mistaken. He thought she was the little errand-girl from Madam Bailey's modiste. "No, I'm just Elizabeth," said the girl, smiling. She felt that this man, whoever he was, was not against her. He was old, and he had a kind look. He still thought she meant she was not the modiste, just her errand-girl.
"Late again, I see," the shop steward growled. Walter gulped. "Yes, sir. Just four minutes, this time, sir. You know those crowded strips " "So it's just four minutes now, eh?" Bailey's feet came down with a crash. "After last month's fine production record, you think four minutes doesn't matter, eh?
"You er threw this in the er waste-basket." he drawled. "In which pocket was it?" "The waistcoat. An upper one, I believe. There was a pencil there, too." "Have you an old pair of shoes of Bailey's," asked the visitor abruptly. "Why, I suppose so. In the attic somewhere." "Please bring them to me." The Reverend Mr. Prentice left the room.
That Bailey's genius is all that need be desired in the "coming poet," will be contested by few who have read and wondered at "Festus" at its fire of speech, its force of sentiment, its music of sound, its Californian wealth of golden imagery; the infinite variety of its scenes, speeches, and songs; the spirit of reverence which underlies all its liberties, errors, and extravagances; and the originality which, like the air of a mountain summit, renders its perusal at first difficult, and almost deadly, but at last excites and elevates to absolute intoxication.
Bailey's people were making hay in the valley, and I sat down on a fragrant haycock to await the return of my companion. He told me he had killed it on the mountain behind us, and was taking it to Bailey's for sale. It was an animal something in color like a deer, and about as heavy, though shorter in the leg, with very large curved horns, like those of a ram.
The launch Luzon, from Fitzgibbon's, two miles up, would go fretting by, sometimes three or four times a day, conspicuous with its colouring of Indian-red and yellow, and its two Oriental attendants; and one day, to Bailey's vast amusement, the house-boat Purple Emperor came to a stop outside, and breakfasted in the most shameless domesticity.
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