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Updated: June 28, 2025
Very beautiful is this snow as it softens the rugged, corky limbs of the mossy cup oaks.
We found Corky near the door, looking at the picture, with one hand up in a defensive sort of way, as if he thought it might swing on him. "Stand right where you are, Bertie," he said, without moving. "Now, tell me honestly, how does it strike you?" The light from the big window fell right on the picture. I took a good look at it. Then I shifted a bit nearer and took another look.
The corky nature of this region of the bark was likely richer in carbonizable elements than the wood properly so called, and had, in consequence, to undergo much less shrinkage. Dr. Commentry cannel coal, X200. Etienne; transverse section, X200. Calamodendron, Commentry; prosenchymatous portion of the wood carbonized, X200.
"See here, confound you, don't get funny," snapped Corky from the head of the table. "You forget the servants." "I'm not ashamed to have them hear me call you father, Corky," protested Rip. "I'll shout it from the house top if you think there's any doubt about my sincerity." "Don't tease, Ripley," said Toots. "Your poor brother is dreadfully embarrassed."
It takes on a rather narrow, pyramidal head, broadening as it ages, but never betraying kin with its fellow of the swamp, save perhaps when winter has bared its peculiar winged and strangely "corky" branches. These odd branches bear, on some trees particularly, a noticeable ridge, made up of the same substance which in the cork-oak of Europe furnishes the bottle-stoppers of commerce.
"I don't see how it could have been, old chap." Poor old Corky ran his fingers through his hair in a temperamental sort of way. He groaned. "You're right quite, Bertie. Something's gone wrong with the darned thing. My private impression is that, without knowing it, I've worked that stunt that Sargent and those fellows pull painting the soul of the sitter.
Corky was standing staring at the picture. His face was set. There was a hunted look in his eye. "Well, that finishes it!" he muttered brokenly. "What are you going to do?" "Do? What can I do? I can't stick on here if he cuts off supplies. You heard what he said. I shall have to go to the office on Monday." I couldn't think of a thing to say. I knew exactly how he felt about the office.
"You must go with me to the dressmaker's tomorrow, girls," said the Grand Duchess, effectually putting a stop to the discussion. "I shall be there all day trying on gowns, and I want your opinions." "Didn't you have anything made in Paris, Mother?" cried Toots and Beppy in unison. "She did," said Corky emphatically. "We paid duty on seventy-three gowns, to say nothing of other things."
But now, as he looked at Bartley's back, he had his misgivings; it struck him as the back of a degenerate man, and that increasing bulk seemed not to represent an increase of wholesome substance, but a corky, buoyant tissue, materially responsive to some sort of moral dry-rot. Bartley pushed on to the Events office in a blithe humor.
"I've got a few questions I'd like to ask of you, Corky." "Corky! Good Lord, don't call me THAT. Where did you hear that name " "I saw it in the Herald. It's the only thing I have against you. I can't help thinking of you as a sort of monument to my poor dead husband. Have I never told you that he had a cork leg? Well, he had. He lost a real leg at Gettysburg.
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