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By now Chappy Marr had won his way to the forefront of his kind. The same intelligence invoked, the same energies exercised, and in almost any proper field he would before this have been a rich man and an honored one. By his twisted code of ethics and unmorals, though, the dubious preëminence he enjoyed was ample reward.
"So they've sent us a cricketer in young Doe," Radley was saying to Dr. Chapman. Chappy turned in his chair, which creaked alarmingly, and composed himself to talk comfortably. "Oh, the Gray Doe yes, charming little squirt best bat the Nursery had last year. And, though nobody but myself recognised it, the Gem was the best bowler." "The Gem?" queried Radley. "Who was the 'Gem'?"
It is with her that the quarry is compromisingly entangled. But against women confederates Chappy Marr had a strong prejudice. They were such uncertain quantities; you never could depend upon them.
Look at his sickening son and heir yonder. Did you ever see an orthodox doctor produce a cockchafer like that? That's homoeopathy, that is " And Chappy flourished his new cigar towards Freedham. Doe, too, had seen Freedham's entry, and some sign of recognition passed between them.
And I wanted to think over the little fact, which Chappy had let fall, that certain ladies called me the "Gem." I chewed a blade of grass and ruminated. That flattering little disclosure balanced the weight of Fillet's dislike. I wished it could be brought to his knowledge; and I imagined conversations in which he was told.
They had opened so promisingly: and now Chappy was getting quite enthusiastic, and the rapid motion of his lips was causing the cigar to be so restless that it constantly changed its position and scattered ash down his expanse of white waistcoat. I had no need, however, to strain my ears, for Chappy was incapable of speaking softly for any length of time.
Just to finish off the afternoon too, and make the Corrugated gen'ral offices seem more like a fam'ly meetin' place, about four o'clock in blows Sister Marjorie from the shoppin' district, trailin' a friend with her; a stranger too. First off, from a hasty glimpse at the hard-boiled lid and the man's collar and the loose-fittin' top coat, I thought it was some chappy.
"The old chappy cut up quite decent at the last. I expect it was that little poem of mine which fetched him," said Rumple, who was strutting round like a peacock in a new suit of clothes and feeling himself someone of importance. "Hush, dear, don't call him names, I do not like it," said Nealie with gentle dignity, while she struggled with her tears. "Are you crying over saying goodbye to Mr.
A sunny afternoon seemed to have forgotten the time and only just made up its mind to merge into a mellow evening: the boys, watching the game, were sending their young and lively sounds upon the air; those of the smaller cattle, whose interest had waned, were engaging with the worst taste in noisy French cricket: the flannelled figures of the players, with their wide little chests, neat waists, and round hips, promised fine things for the manhood of England ten years on: at the wicket stood the attractive figure of Edgar Doe in an occupation very congenial to him that of shining: and Chappy had just said: "I say, Radley, don't you think this generation of boys is the most shapely lot England has turned out?
Be no forecaster of the dawn; Deem it an asset, and be gay Come, merge to-morrow's misty morn In the resplendence of to-day. "Youth is the day the field to scour, The time of conquests won, The pause, wherein to hark at trysting hour To the whispered word That is gently heard In the wake of the passing sun " "What's it all about?" grumbled Chappy.
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