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Updated: June 22, 2025
Morton, For it was in coming here to watch the young men that I lost my fine, new hat." "Now, I'm heartily sorry," replied Mr. Morton, "but I am certain the members of the committee will feel that money contributed by the citizens of the town can hardly be expended in purchasing hats for anyone." "But " Mr. Cantwell began to expostulate. Then he stopped, very suddenly.
Cantwell, of Kilfeacle, makes the suggestive announcement that "parents are already counting the potatoes they give their children." The good Rector of Skull, Dr. Robert Traill, writes to Lord Bernard with prophetic grief. "Am I to cry peace, peace, where there is no peace?
Cantwell went forward and lifted him. It was the first time in many days that their hands had touched, and the sensation affected him strangely. He struggled to repress a devilish mirth at the thought that Grant had played out it amounted to that and nothing less; the trail had delivered him into his enemy's hands, his hour had struck.
At the landing John Cantwell was waiting in some anxiety, for the sound of Jeremy's shot had reached him at the house. Bob told the story, somewhat to Jeremy's embarrassment, for nothing was spared in the telling. The Quaker thanked him with great earnestness and reproved his daughter gently for straying beyond the plantation.
On June 27 the second meeting of the State Central Committee was held in Livingston, immediately following that of the State Federation of Women's Clubs. Great progress in interest and organization was reported from all parts of the State. The only new officers elected were: Recording secretary, Mrs. John Willis of Glasgow; chairman of literature, Miss Mary Agnes Cantwell of Hunters' Hot Springs.
Cantwell is one of the same crew, a specious hypocrite. I would attend to the fellow no more than to that red-headed rector every priest is a rector now who often held my horse at his father's forge, when T happened to throw a shoe hunting, and would half break his back bowing, if I handed him now and then a sixpence.
One day a fellow said to Cantwell: I'd give you such a belt in a second. Cantwell had answered: Go and fight your match. Give Cecil Thunder a belt. I'd like to see you. He'd give you a toe in the rump for yourself. That was not a nice expression. His mother had told him not to speak with the rough boys in the college. Nice mother!
It was that gesture which saved the situation at that critical moment. The boys thought that if silence would please Mr. Drake, then he might have it. "Pardon me, sir," whispered Drake in Cantwell's ear. "I wouldn't harp on the word mutiny, sir. Express your regret for the injury unintentionally done Bristow." Mr. Cantwell wheeled abruptly. "Who is principal here, Mr. Drake?" "You are, sir."
He scooped a mitten full of snow and raised it to his lips, then spat it out, still dry. "Here! Brace up!" In a panic of apprehension at this collapse Grant shook him; he had never known Johnny to fail like this. "Take a drink; it'll do you good." He drew a bottle from one of the dunnage bags and Cantwell seized it avidly. It was wet; it would quench his thirst, he thought.
Beyond this throng, safely out of range of vision, other students gathered in groups and chuckled almost silently. Clatter! By an unintentional move of one arm Mr. Cantwell swept fully a hundred pennies off on to the floor. He leaped up, flushed and angry. "Will the young -gentlemen -aid me in recovering the coins that went on the floor?" he asked.
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