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Updated: June 14, 2025
What if somebody had got it out of his pocket, while he was so dead asleep, and taken part of it? What if Mr. Bushell had made a mistake, and not given him as much as he thought he had? He hardly breathed while Mr. Bushell's partner slowly counted the bank-notes. It took him a long time, and he had to wet his finger a good many times, and push the notes to keep them from sticking together.
You don't go there every evening to look for a dead lady, Mr. Merceron." Charlie stopped short, and took his cigar from his mouth. "What?" he asked, a little abruptly. "Well, I shall follow you some day, and I shouldn't be surprised if I met not Agatha but " "Well?" asked Charlie, with an uncertain smile. "Why, poor Miss Bushell!" Charlie laughed and replaced his cigar.
So homewards and took up a boy that had a lanthorn, that was picking up of rags, and got him to light me home, and had great discourse with him how he could get sometimes three or four bushells of rags in a day, and got 3d. a bushell for them, and many other discourses, what and how many ways there are for poor children to get their livings honestly.
"Charlie, dear," called Lady Merceron, who had been talking comfortably to Mrs. Bushell in the shade, "come and hand the tea. I'm sure you must all want some. Millie, my dear, how hot you look!" "She never will take any care of her complexion, complained Mrs. Bushell. "Take care of your stom your health and your complexion will take care of itself," observed Mr. Vansittart. "Charlie!
This time the expedition went off more quietly than it had previously, but at the last moment the ladies declared that they would, be late for dinner if they waited till it was time for Agatha Merceron to come. "Oh, nonsense!" said Calder. "Come over to the temple, Miss Bushell. I won't upset the canoe." "Well, if you insist," said Millie. Then Mrs.
I think if any bird had lighted upon the excrements of the said stuff, they had stuckt to it as if it weare glue. In the fields we have gathered severall fruits, as goosberyes, blackberrys, that in an houre we gathered above a bushell of such sorte, although not as yett full ripe. We boyled it, and then every one had his share. Heere was daintinesse slighted.
Miss Bushell, cavalierly deserted, made her way home at something more than her usual rate of speed. She had never believed in that nonsense, but there was certainly something white at that window something white that moved. Under the circumstances, Charlie really might have seen her home, she thought, for the wood-fringed road was gloomy, and dusk coming on apace.
Perhaps it was her anxiety about this that began the whole trouble; for when the driver came with the carriage, she could not help asking him if he was sure to get home before sundown. That made him drive faster than he might have done, perhaps; at any rate, he set off at a quick trot after Mr. Bushell had helped put the two boys in. Mrs.
Having so much experience, I desired him to have patience; so gott of my shirt & lep't into the watter & gathered about half a bushell of those shells or mussells. I made sure that the boat should not leave me, for I fastened my girdle to it, and held the end. Mistrust is the mother of safety. We came back againe.
I certainly worked the little mine that I had opened for all that it was worth, and readers of mine who give themselves the trouble to remember will recall the wanderings of the hero of Skeleton Keys, of Frank Fairholt, of Hiram Search and of young George Bushell. Speaking of Hiram Search naturally reminds me of Charles Reade.
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