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Updated: June 13, 2025
Now there wan't nothing to that 'twas just some of Brown's sarcastic spite getting the best of him but I give you my word that the count turned yellow under his brown skin, kind of like mud rising from the bottom of a pond. "What-a you say?" he says, bending for'ards. "Mr. Brown was mistaken, that's all," says Dillaway; "he meant rapiers." "But why-a razors why-a razors?" says the count.
In the hope, then, of ruining him, if not of getting scathelessly off themselves, these ladies-legatees mustered once more from the mazes of St. Giles's the pack of competent Irish witnesses, collected whatever documentary or other evidence looked likeliest to help their ends, and then one early day presented themselves before the lord-mayor, eager to destroy at a blow that pleasant Mr. Dillaway.
If any thing could add to Henry's self-complacency at that moment, it was the recollection of his own truly disinterested conduct; for only yesterday he had transferred all his little property to that kind and brotherly fellow John Dillaway, in trust for Maria Clements, should any possible reverse of fortune affect her father's or his own prosperity.
Let us try to discover what good news such an idiosyncrasy as that of John Dillaway would be pleased to designate as "bones."
Next day he was the happiest thing in sight, and when Miss Dillaway and the count went Lover's Nesting he didn't seem to care a bit. All of a sudden he told Jonadab and me that he was going up to Boston that evening on bus'ness and wouldn't be back for a day or so.
It was a dilemma, certainly after all that Lady Dillaway had said and recommended: fortunately, however, her lord the knight, when the street door was opened to him, hastened straightway to his own "study," where he had to consult some treatise upon tare and tret, and a recent pamphlet upon the undoubted social duty, 'Run for Gold; so that awkward rencounter was avoided; and Mr.
You draw well, as the man said about the pipe. But the other thirty you'll have to work out. You used to shave like a bird. I'll give you twelve dollars a week to chip in with Macaroni here and barber the boarders." But Dillaway looked anxious. "Look here, Brown," he says, "I wouldn't do that. I'll pay his board bill and his traveling expenses if he clears out this minute.
And they got the rest we advertised; we didn't cheat 'em on REST. By ten o'clock pretty nigh all hands was abed, and 'twas so still all you could hear was the breakers or the wind, or p'raps a groan coming from a window where some boarder had turned over in his sleep and a corncob in the mattress had raked him crossways. There was one old chap that we'll call Dillaway Ebenezer Dillaway.
Two flashy, showy women, not of easy virtue, but of none at all special intimates of John Dillaway, and the genus of his like, and habitual frequenters of divers choice and pleasant places of resort.
And SUCH a passel of drownded rats you never see. The women-folks made for their rooms, but the men hopped around the parlor, shedding puddles with every hop, and hollering for us to trot out the head of the Weather Bureau. "Bring him to me," orders Peter, stopping to pick his pants loose from his legs; "I yearn to caress him." And what old Dillaway said was worse'n that.
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