Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 15, 2025
Gifford half pushed, half carried, him to the door, and in another moment Dick Forsythe found himself flung like a snapping cur in the mud and rain of Mr. Denner's garden. He gathered himself up, and saw Gifford standing in the doorway, as though to offer him a chance of revenge. "Damn you!" he screamed, furious with passion. "I'll pay you for this!
Gifford did so, and then put the package into Mr. Denner's hands. He held it a moment before he gently removed the soft, worn tissue paper in which it was wrapped; his very touch was a caress. "I was desirous," he said, "of having this by me. It is a miniature of my little sister, sir. She perhaps you scarcely remember her? She died when I was twenty. That is forty-one years ago.
Denner's looks, and Mrs. Dale's bad taste in being a matchmaker. He would be at home for one day the next week; business had called him from Lockhaven, and on his way back he would stay a night in Ashurst. The little ladies were flurried with happiness.
"No!" he called back, "no, of course not." "Not even to your aunt Ruth would be best!" But he did not hear her, and Miss Deborah went back to the house, annoyed at Gifford, because of her own indiscretion. Miss Ruth had gone to her own bedroom, and some time after Miss Deborah had disappeared in hers, the younger sister emerged, ready to go to Mr. Denner's.
Denner's grandparents loomed up dark and forbidding, and Mary, who always sat with her arms rolled in her apron and her head bowed upon her ample breast, made a grotesque shadow, which danced and bobbed about on the door of the pantry. Mary generally slept through prayers, while for Willie it was a time of nervous dread.
But the rector had more strength of purpose than his sister thought. His keen eyes blurred once or twice in his walk to the village, and his lip almost trembled, but when he reached Mr. Denner's bedside he had a firm hand to give his friend. The doctor had left a note for him, saying the end was near, and he read this before he went into the sick-room. Mr.
Two small saloons are next devoted to the modern Dutch and German school. In these is Denner's head of an old woman, which Cowper celebrates in a pretty poem a marvel of faithful reproduction. One would think the old lady must have sat at least a year, till he had daguerreotyped every wrinkle and twinkle.
Denner's office, looking over the "Field" and talking of their next hunting trip. He was not even irritated when, one morning, wishing to read a letter to his daughter, he had gone all over the house looking for her, and then had caught a glimpse of her through the trees, down in the sunny garden, with Dick Forsythe.
Denner's gin and sugar, and also make himself a cup of tea.
Denner's side, listening to the small stream of words bubbling along in a cheerful monotony, with scarcely a period for her answers.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking