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Updated: May 29, 2025
Perhaps in that farm-house over there..." It was probable enough that no member of the Cole family would have minded banishing Mrs. That was impossible. They had come for a picnic and a picnic they would have. Mrs. Cole watched, with growing agitation, the whole situation.
She turned to begin her dish washing, with a scornful air that seemed to say that he was beneath any further notice. Still, no sooner had she piled the dishes up in the pan than she turned to him again, with her hands on her hips. "Go down and ask Uncle Mose," she said, still indignant. "He can tell you tales that'll send cole chills up an' down yo' spine.
Old Tom Cole leaned over, took the tiny, flowery affair, and balanced it gently upon a horny hand. "Of course he'll have room for it! An' it's jest as pretty as they make them! An' here he comes now, down the mountain, to thank ye himself!" Allan Gold thanked Christianna with simplicity.
"Well, Jones," one of them said, in a very subdued tone, "if this is not one of the queerest pieces of work I ever saw, then call me an Arab." "Never mind, Cole," the other answered, "push ahead as fast as you can, or the Indians will broil us yet. We must get a good start to cheat the rascally red-skins." "Hush about the broiling, you make me nervous. How about our company?
"I told him that I did not think that his suggestion was possible and that I did not care for Mr. Cole, nor he for me. You see, Frank, I owe your Uncle John so much. I am the daughter of one of his best friends, and since dear daddy died Uncle John has looked after me. He has given me my education my income my everything; he has been a second father to me." Frank nodded.
Underneath this church is the vault or place of burial of the Cole family, lords of Enniskillen a dreary place, closed in by a gloomy iron gate.
Our fleete resolved to sail out again from Harwich in a day or two. 30th. Here I met with one that tells me that Jack Cole, my old schoolefellow, is dead and buried lately of a consumption, who was a great crony of mine. So back again home, and there to my closet to write letters. Hear to my great trouble that our Hambrough ships, 31st.
And so in the afternoon my wife went to church, and he and I stayed at home and drank and talked, and he stayed with me till night and supped with me, when I expected to have seen Jack Cole and Lem. Wagstaffe, but they did not come.
Say, Dick, that was something like a scrap at the last. What? Guess if it hadn't been for old King Cole, we'd have been in rather a tight place. Look at the beggar. Ugh! he is not pleasant to look at when he's real riled, is he? He has brought off his kill all right, and I guess we'd better leave him to it a bit. I believe I don't particularly want to interfere with him just now.
Late hours do not agree with us. I am sorry Mr. and Mrs. Cole should have done it. I think it would be much better if they would come in one afternoon next summer, and take their tea with us take us in their afternoon walk; which they might do, as our hours are so reasonable, and yet get home without being out in the damp of the evening.
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