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When Will and George came to the back of the weigh-house they heard some one moving about at the front. "That's probably the caretaker, taking his last look for the night," suggested Will. "He pokes around all the outbuildings every night before he goes to bed. At least, he is supposed to." "But this fellow hasn't got any lantern," urged George. "The plot deepens!" chuckled Will.
I bent to look at it, whereupon the caretaker said: "That's a good photograph of Mr. De Gex, isn't it, sir?" "Excellent," I said, for it was a really fine portrait. "Does your mistress come over from Italy often?" "Oh, yes, and she brings the little boy over with her. She is frequently here, while her husband stays at Fiesole. I send on his correspondence every day to Mr.
At half-past seven he passed up the handsome steps and under the arch which led to his studio. The caretaker with gouty hands met him. This man had been a soldier, and still had a soldier's eyes, and a way of presenting himself, rather sternly and watchfully, to those arriving in "my building," as he called the house full of studios, which was military.
And I see no cats, Mr. Brown." "Ye wullna see ony as lang as the wee doggie is leevin' i' the kirkyaird. An' the vermin hae sneekit awa' the first time sin' Queen Mary's day. An' syne there's mair singin' birdies than for mony a year." Mr. Traill had listened, unseen. Now he came forward with a gay challenge in broad Scotch to put the all but routed caretaker at his ease.
After ringing the bell for several minutes a very angry caretaker came to the door. "What do you want, my man?" cried this individual in unmistakable British accents. "Dash your blooming impudence in waking me up at this time in the morning." "I want to get my taxicab fare from the gent that brought the lady here drunk!" declared the chauffeur. "Are you her father?"
Shirley could have touched his head, so near he was, but the darkness of the upper space covered the retreat of the criminologist. "What do you want?" was the angry question of an indignant old caretaker who answered the bell tardily. "You woke me up." "Say, lady, can I speak to Mr. Montague Shirley?" began the man, gingerly. "You get away from this house, you loafer or I'll call the police.
As it is, the history of the fight and the reputation of the men who fought is now at the mercy of the caretaker of the park and the Cuban "guides" from the hotel. The caretaker speaks only Spanish, and, considering the amount of misinformation the guides disseminate, it is a pity when they are talking to Americans, they are not forced to use the same language.
I meditated during the bike trip on how, over the years, Rama flipped between "caretaker personalities" more frequently and how, starting in 1984, the flipping grew sudden and extreme. This unnerving phenomenon could be seen in the stages of his LSD trip.
Her mind was full of the idea that she would simply have to have a new dress, preferably black silk, for Sundays. Gissing, very sagacious, had already foreseen this point. "Let's not have any argument," he continued. "I have planned everything. Here is some money for immediate needs. I'll speak to them at the bank, and they will give you a weekly allowance. I leave you here as caretaker.
Slack to lay in wait for him and destroy the poor man in his bed?" shrilled the caretaker. "Watch carefully now, everybody. He might rush out of some corner at us." "Say, my transom's halfway open!" Mr. Bob Slack exclaimed. "And, by Jove, there's a light shining through it yonder from the bedroom. He's inside we've got him cornered, whoever he is." Boldly Mr.
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