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Updated: May 10, 2025
"There's a franklin in the wilds of Kent, hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold ... a kind of auditor." It was quite late when Britt-Mitchell arose like a giant refreshed. First ringing for breakfast, he bathed and shaved and arrayed himself carefully in glad habiliments of quiet taste and cut, in which he bore slight resemblance to the rough-and-ready Britt of Elmsdale.
Her eyes were wide with fright, and she was trembling so violently that she was forced to sink into the nearest chair. "Why, Miss Arabella!" Mrs. Britt exclaimed, "are you sick? You must lie down at once." "No, no, I'm not sick," and the visitor flapped her hands in despair. "But your husband, Mrs. Britt, your husband, oh, oh!" "What's the matter with him?" Mrs.
Ask him the grain output of Paraguay for 1903, or the English importation of sheetings into China for 1890, or at what weight Jimmy Britt fought Battling Nelson, or who was welter-weight champion of the United States in '68, and you'll get the correct answer with the automatic celerity of a slot-machine.
"It won't be here long," retorted Britt, with garrulous good nature. "Draw it all out next week. Eleven, twelve and fifty. Thanks to you. There goes the clock. Good day!" "Quite an odd character, that Mr. Britt?" said the president casually at the club that night. "Boyish old chap." "Yes, isn't he?" said Mendenhall, folding his paper. "I sold him a pretty stiff bill of goods this morning.
She borrowed some figures of speech suggested by the work she was doing in the bank and declared that her loyalty was not insolvent and that she would not make any composition with her conscience. In her zeal to be of service, one day she even volunteered to interview Tasper Britt on the subject of what had happened to the Egypt Trust Company.
Starr hung up his coat and hat and swooped like a hawk on the daybook, at the same time calling for the book of "petty cash." "First of all, the finger on the pulse of the patient, Cashier," he declared, grimly jovial. "Then we'll have a look at the tongue, and study the other symptoms." President Britt went away to his own office.
He was taking account of stock of Vaniman's personality, his eyes going up and down the stalwart figure and dwelling finally and persistently on the young man's hair; it was copper-bronze in hue, it had an attractive wave, there was plenty of it, and it seemed to be very firmly rooted. "I don't remember that I mentioned it, Mr. Britt, but I do have an errand with you." "All right! What is it?" Mr.
It's my fault. I overslept." Britt ate for a few minutes; then he suspended operations and looked Files hard in the face; that face, as to mouth, was as widely open as the countenance of the office alligator. "I did a whole lot of thinking last night, Files.
In fact, an itinerant evangelist who called himself "The Light of the World" had come to town and was trying to exhort the inhabitants into rebellion against conditions, and in his crack-brained hysteria was having some success in exciting "The Children" to protest against the domination by Tasper Britt. Mr.
"Some people think he did," answered Britt, dryly. "So they're with Simeon. He lives gorgeously, I'm told." "About like a lone American guest in a twenty-franc-per-day hotel in Paris. Why, yes, they're very comfortable there all but the girl. She's discontented and unhappy, if I'm any judge, and is besieged day and night by the mourning faithful, not to speak of certain amorous males."
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