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Updated: June 8, 2025
George Bross, shipping clerk, introduced himself: a brawny young man in shirt-sleeves, wearing a visorless cap of soiled linen, an apron of striped ticking, pencils behind both angular red ears, and a smudge of marking-ink together with a broad irritating smile upon a clownish countenance. In one hand he held an envelope. Draping himself elegantly over Mr.
"You are certainly one observin' young gent," remarked Miss Prim in accents of envious admiration. Ignoring the challenge, Bross pondered hastily. "Think I better spring it on him now?" he enquired in doubt. "My Gawd, no!" protested the lady in alarm. "I'd spoil the plant, sure. I'd love to watch you feed it to him, but Heaven knows I'd never be able to hold in without bustin'."
George Bross sat upon the dusty, grimy floor, batted his eyes, ruefully rubbed the back of his head, and marvelled at the reverberations inside it. Then he became conscious of P. Sybarite some three feet distant, regarding him with tight-lipped interest. "Good God!" George ejaculated with feeling. "Did you do that to me?" "I did," returned P. Sybarite curtly. "Want me to prove it?"
Bross gaped with resentment, which gradually overcame his better judgment. "You won't, eh?" he said stridently. "I'd like to know what you're going to do to stop me, Perce " P. Sybarite stepped quickly toward him and George, with a growl, threw out his hands in a manner based upon a somewhat hazy conception of the formulæ of self-defence.
He wondered if he dared risk the extravagance of a modest supper after the theatre; and knew he dared not knew it in wretchedness of spirit, cursing his fate.... There remained half an hour to be killed before time to start for the theatre. George Bross joined him on the stoop.
Mrs Kilbannon, definitely given over to caps and curls as they still wear them in Bross, Mrs Forsyth at once formed a great opinion of. She might be something, Mrs Forsyth thought, out of a novel by Mr Crockett, and made you long to go to Scotland, where presumably everyone was like her.
Bross, who up to this trip had been sailing in the schooner to look after its master. At these he gazed hard. "I'll take 'em and try an' swop 'em for some men's clothes," said he suddenly, snatching the garments from the pegs. "She wouldn't mind"; and hastily rolling them into a parcel, together with a pair of carpet slippers of the captain's, he thrust the lot into an old biscuit bag.
Welles says: "The President came into my room about one P.M. and told me he had slept none last night. He lay down for a short time on the sofa in my room, and detailed all the news he had gathered." Ex-Governor Bross of Illinois furnishes an account of an interview with Lincoln during this dark period: "The last time I saw Mr.
On the whole the ladies from Bross profited rather than lost by the new frame they stepped into in the house of Dr Drummond, of Elgin, Ontario.
"I wanna know where you picked up all that classy footwork." "Oh," returned P.S., depreciatory, "I used to spar a bit with the fellows when I was a ah when I was younger." "When you was at what?" insisted Bross, declining to be fobbed off with any such flimsy evasion. "When I was at liberty to." "Huh! You mean, when you was at college." "Please yourself," said P. Sybarite wearily.
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