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Updated: May 21, 2025
His scout training had taught him self-reliance and resource, and here was the chance to apply them, to go home, to find his way without anyone's help. The lonely road called to him more than the dark houses did. But how about the car? Mr. Bartlett's stolen car? Would it be the way of a scout to go home and tell about that? Bartlett; they tried to steal it but I foiled them!
Bartlett's bonnet and cloak before the laugh at the professor had subsided. She adjusted the cloak, tied Mrs. Bartlett's bonnet strings with daughterly care and then turned to look after the Squire's comfort, but he strode past her to the sleigh with Marthy. Kate and the professor called on a cheery "Good-night," but Mrs.
"Oh, they're all fire-eaters on the surface," Bartlett's tone was disdainful. "But you may all judge for yourselves in a moment. For, if I'm not mistaken, he's coming up the road to meet us." "By jove, he sits his horse like a king," said Bartlett's companion, admiringly. "Who are those chaps with him? Looks like a sort of reception committee."
And now get out of here, both of you; I want to take a nap." Thus it was that, an hour later, the new colored butler was carrying the papers back to Bartlett & Bangs's, and Mr. Randolph's new secretary was sawing wood in Madam Bartlett's cellar. It was a humble beginning, but he whistled jubilantly as he worked.
Gosford, after filling his pipe again and pausing for at least a minute, "Bartlett's dead." "Bartlett wur a slow-coach," observed Mr. Chandler, after another pause of a minute, "so wur his mare. I mind me I wur behind his mare about five years ago last Michaelmas, and I wur well-nigh perished.
About this time the two Miss Steeles, lately arrived at their cousin's house in Bartlett's Buildings, Holborn, presented themselves again before their more grand relations in Conduit and Berkeley Streets; and were welcomed by them all with great cordiality. Elinor only was sorry to see them.
It was impolitic, it might be disastrous, if Senator Meiklejohn's name were dragged into connection with that of the unsavory Voles on the flimsy evidence, or, rather, mere doubt, affecting Winifred Bartlett's early life. Winifred herself lived in a passive but blissful state of dreams during the three weeks.
Just around the corner from Bartlett's shop Hoffman went to school at Columbia College, where the present Park Place now wends its way from the river to Printing House Square. After leaving college he studied law, but soon gave up that profession to become the associate editor of the American as the commencement of a literary career.
Before he could properly defend himself, Bartlett sprang at him and grasped him round the waist. Yates was something of a wrestler himself, but his skill was of no avail on this occasion. Bartlett's right leg became twisted around his with a steel-like grip that speedily convinced the younger man he would have to give way or a bone would break.
Bartlett's money somewhere in the yard. He gave up that idea when he considered the complication of digging it up every time he came back from the store and had to make change. Besides, this time of year his mother was likely to be planting flowers all over the place. Jerry decided he might as well watch the moving in next door while he was trying to think of a safe hiding place for Mr.
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