Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 17, 2025
They are, themselves, all well-to-do, and gentlefolk as well. The disposal by Old Hughie Blake, as he was known hereabout, of his estate makes no difference to the other Blakes living near Emberon," wrote Mr. Sherwood. "It is some kin at a distance, children of a half sister of Old Hughie, who have made a claim against the estate. Mr.
"It's only fair to Paula to say," Miss Wollaston insisted, "that she did nothing to exhibit a feeling of that sort. But when, at John's suggestion, I spoke of the possibility of having in the Cravens and the Blakes, the Cravens are very musical, you know and Wallace Hood who would be really hurt if we left him out, Paula came nearer to being downright rude than she often allows herself to be.
Carlton reflected a moment then asked abruptly: "I don't suppose you happen to be a connection of the Colorado Blakes." "I come from Colorado," replied Van quickly. "You're not one of the sugar Blakes; not Asa Blake's son." "Yes," cried Van. "Mr. Asa Blake is my father, and he is in the beet sugar business. Do you know him?" "I believe I've met him," Mr.
They were very jolly at dinner, and talked a good deal about the Blakes, who ate in their own rooms. Miss Kent told what the children said, and it touched the soft spot in all their hearts to hear about the red shirts, though they laughed at Polly's lament over the bird with only one feather in its tail.
"But of co'se I ca'culated to git you to fetch it out jest for me to look at, after I'd selected his present. Ain't it a beauty? Seems to me they couldn't be a more suitable present for a man ef he didn't hate 'em so. No, Mis' Blakes, it ain't only thet he don't never drink ice-water. I wouldn't mind a little thing like that.
Cynthia gathered up the scattered garments, which had been left carelessly from the day before, and carried them into the kitchen, where a pine ironing board was supported by two empty barrels. Lila was busily preparing a bowl of gruel for one of the sick old Negroes who still lived upon the meager charity of the Blakes. "Mother wants you, Cynthia," she said.
The Blakes had been married a quarter of a century or longer and had spent at least twenty years of their childless solitary life in a mud- built ranch, sheep-farming on the pampas, and had slowly accumulated a small fortune, until now they were possessed of about a square league of land with 25,000 or 30,000 sheep, and had built themselves a big ugly brick house to live in.
He met her question squarely. "For more than two hundred." Without shifting her steady gaze which she turned upon his face, she leaned forward, clasping her hands loosely upon the knees. "There are things that I want to know, Mr. Carraway," she said, "many things, and I believe that you can tell me. Most of all, I want to know why we ever came to Blake Hall? Why the Blakes ever left it?
First they had come upon a small, rocky stream flowing into our river from the south, which stream Hubbard felt sure must be the Red River the Blakes had told us about, and a mile above that a two-mile stretch of good water.
"Won't you come in?" she asked after a moment, with an embarrassed air, as she remembered that he was one of the "real Blakes" for whom her father used to work.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking