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They passed on up the next flight, but he waited breathlessly until he heard the door of the apartment above slam noisily. For half an hour he sat huddled in front of the stove without removing his hat and ulster. "Curse the luck," he was saying over and over again to himself, sometimes aloud. "Why should he have a pardon? What are the laws for? Curse that meddling old fool Clegg!
Miss Clegg rocked vigorously. "I can't get that plaster out o' my head," she continued presently. "I wonder if it won't give you rheumatism anyhow. Deacon White got rheumatism from movin' into a house where the plaster was damp, 'n' it stands to reason it'd be worse yet if it's tied right tight to you. I must say 't I agree with Mrs. Macy; I think you'd ought to have old Dr. Carter.
I just told him to leave 'em on a chair this mornin' an' I'd sew 'em all up again, an' I done it, an' as to the rose bush, I'll have him get another an' give it to me for a present the next time I go to the city to pick it out myself." "Well, where " began Mrs. Lathrop in a tone of real pleasure at seeing Miss Clegg come into her kitchen one afternoon a few days after.
One was in the nature of a guillotine by which a person could chop his own head off neatly without chance of failure, and the other had to do with the improvement of science in respect to shoelaces. Mr. Clegg was not long in convincing Graydon that his proposition to him was sincere and not the outgrowth of sentiment.
'T any rate, 'f he don't know nothin' yet, Heaven help Amelia Fitch 'n' me, f'r he'll take us both in." "Who was you thinkin' o' " Mrs. Lathrop asked, resuming her former occupation. "The minister," replied Miss Clegg. "I did n't stop to consider very much, but it struck me 's polite to begin with him.
Murdoch's statements threw great light on the comparative advantage of gas and candles, and contained much useful information on the expenses of production and management. Early in 1809, Mr. Samuel Clegg communicated to the Society of Arts his plan of an apparatus for lighting manufactories with gas, for which he received a silver medal. In this year also, Mr. Clegg erected a gas apparatus in Mr.
But Clegg either could not or would not hear; he drove on at full speed, a faster rate of progress than that adopted by most drivers of four-wheeled cabs being one of his chief recommendations. They were now passing Euston. It was a muggy, slushy night, with a thin brown fog wreathing the houses and fading away above their tops into a dull, slate-blue sky.
"It's finished. There's nothing left to do but remove ourselves." "Elias, did Mr. Clegg know about father's conviction when he offered me the place in New York?" asked Graydon as they started away. "Yes, that's the beauty of it. He admires you. You'll take the place?" "Not until I've talked it all over with him to-morrow."
Cleggett himself, as he filled and lighted the pipe, did it in the most matter-of-fact sort of way. Then he remarked to the head of the copy desk, in an average kind of voice: "H'lo, Jim." "H'lo, Clegg," said Jim, without looking up. "Might as well begin on this bunch of early copy, I guess."
Jathrop's more to the point right now." Upon this hint Mrs. Lathrop de-fenced herself, so to speak, and the friendly chat ended for that time. The morning after, Miss Clegg was slow to appear at the summons of her neighbor. When she did approach the spot where the other stood waiting, her whole face and figure bore a weary and fretful air.
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