Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 13, 2025
Their evident attachment to one another was curiously displayed; Clodd, the young and red-haired, treating his white- haired, withered companion with fatherly indulgence; the other glancing up from time to time into Clodd's face with a winning expression of infantile affection. "We are getting much better," explained Clodd, the pair meeting Peter Hope one day at the corner of Newcastle Street.
Clodd, no one else appearing inclined to break the silence, "that in suggesting the Royal Zoological Society to my poor old friend as a fitting object for his benevolence, I had in mind a very similar case that occurred five years ago. A bequest to them was disputed on the grounds that the testator was of unsound mind. They had to take their case to the House of Lords before they finally won it."
"Do you dispute that you influenced him? dictated it to him word for word, made the poor old helpless idiot sign it, he utterly incapable of even understanding " "Don't chatter so much," interrupted Mr. Clodd. "It's not a pretty voice, yours. What I asked you was, do you intend to dispute it?" "If you will kindly excuse us," struck in Mrs. Gladman, addressing Mr.
Hope have been talking about really comes to anything, we shall be a good deal thrown together, you see, and then I expect you'll call me Tommy most people do." "You've heard about the scheme? Mr. Hope has told you?" "Why, of course," replied Tommy. "I'm Mr. Hope's devil." For the moment Clodd doubted whether his old friend had not started a rival establishment to his own.
"We must get her down from the top of that there portico," cried Clodd; "but I'm too heavy. Here; who'll jump atop of my back, and so try to clamber up?" "Stand away there!" shouted a strong deep voice; and almost before they could move aside a man shot past them like a catapult, and with one bound had reached the carved cornice of the portico with his right hand.
"The moment we lay our hands upon the coin, we'll start that paper. Remember, it's a bargain," had answered William Clodd. Mr. William Clodd turned the handle and walked in. With the door still in his hand he paused to look round the room. It was the first time he had seen it. His meetings hitherto with Peter Hope had been chance rencontres in street or restaurant.
"The only things coming with a rush just now are bills." "Those articles of young McTear's attracted a good deal of attention," expounded Peter. "He has promised to write me another series." "Jowett is the one to get hold of," mused Clodd. "Jowett, all the others follow like a flock of geese waddling after the old gander. If only we could get hold of Jowett, the rest would be easy."
Postwhistle. "I am a bit nervous of this new monkey game, I don't mind confessing to you the things that they do according to the picture-books. Up to now, except for imagining 'imself a mole, and taking all his meals underneath the carpet, it's been mostly birds and cats and 'armless sort o' things I 'aven't seemed to mind so much." "How did you get hold of him?" demanded Mr. Clodd.
"I can't say that of 'im. Never know whether 'e's in the 'ouse or isn't, without going upstairs and knocking at the door." "Here, you tell it your own way," suggested the bewildered Clodd. "If it was anyone else but you, I should say you didn't know your own business." "'E gets on my nerves," said Mrs. Postwhistle. "You ain't in a 'urry for five minutes?" Mr. Clodd was always in a hurry.
The dreamer thought with wonder of Clodd's shrewd practicability; the cute young man of business was lost in admiration of what seemed to him his old friend's marvellous learning. Both had arrived at the conclusion that a weekly journal with Peter Hope as editor, and William Clodd as manager, would be bound to be successful. "If only we could scrape together a thousand pounds!" had sighed Peter.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking