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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Captain Dott," he said, addressing that gentleman, but bowing politely to Serena to indicate that she was included in the question, "you received a letter from our firm about a week ago, did you not?" Captain Dan, who had scarcely recovered from his surprise at his caller's identity, shook his head. "As a matter of fact," he stammered, "I I only got it to-day.
You'll be at home? Thank you. Good day." "Now," said Average Jones to Bertram, as their caller's plump back disappeared, "this looks pretty, queer to me. What did you think of our friend?" "Scared but straight," was Bertram's verdict. "Glad to hear it. That's my idea, too. Let's have a look at the material. We've already got the opening threat, and the General Delivery follow-up."
The Governor was at his broad table in the center of the room; the big chandelier above the table was ablaze, and the shadows of the grooves on North's face were accentuated. He was staring at the opening door with an expectancy that had been fully apprised as to the caller's identity, and he was not cordial. "You make a devilish noise lugging that meat-cleaver around, Amos.
Here you are keeping it so close, while he is sticking it into a paper for everybody to read. I never could see any reason for you to be so awful secret, anyway. It has been all I could do to " "What's the child talkin' about?" The caller's eyes gleamed in guarded delight as she unfolded the paper and spread it out on her knee.
The caller's slight figure was clad in a black whip-cord suit, and over his arm was thrown a neatly folded tan overcoat. His silk hat carried a broad mourning band, and his hands were encased in black kid gloves.
When the butler opened the door, he would undoubtedly have in his hand a half sheet of paper on which were written the names of the expected friends, and if the caller's name was not on that list, he would tell her with brazen impudence that neither Mrs. Packs of cards. Who the expected friend was who had disappointed Mrs.
There was no light at this end of the hall, and the old-fashioned, high-backed settee which stood there was in shadow. With a glance at the caller's muddy condition the young son of the house decided it the part of prudence to assign him this waiting-place, while he himself should go in search of his uncle.
She stood alone, looking about the hall, laughing and nodding, and then she looked at him! Fairchild did not wait. From the platform at the end of the big room the fiddles had begun to squeak, and the caller was shouting his announcements. Couples began to line up on the floor. The caller's voice grew louder: "Two more couples two more couples! Grab yo' podners!"
"It's queer where it ever went to!" Aunt Olivia's voice. "Yes, it's all o' QUEER," the Caller's, with mysterious hints in it that made Rebecca Mary, out on the doorsteps, shudder suddenly and forget where she was in the tune. Oh, oh, dear, did they s'pose they couldn't s'pose it had been STOLEN?
Eliza Marshall fastened her intent but inexpressive gaze upon her caller's face and said never a word. The function thus sketched by Mrs. Bates was the precise function that for the past fortnight she had been imagining and dreading.
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