United States or Jamaica ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Well, that is never; so you are a fibber." "I thought you seemed particularly confident nine seconds ago." "I was only teasing you. I could hardly have been serious after you have called me a worm, and an old man. So now when will you come again?" "In about a month. Let's go out as Guys on the fifth of November." "A month be blowed! I want to know which day next week?"
"Senior Wranglers at Cambridge, not Oxford," said the scholar, with a knowing air; and would probably have been more confidential, but that suddenly there appeared on the cliff in a tax-cart, drawn by a bang-up pony, dressed in white flannel coats, with mother-of-pearl buttons, his friends the Tutbury Pet and the Rottingdean Fibber, with three other gentlemen of their acquaintance, who all saluted poor James there in the carriage as he sate.
I do not know if, as you say, they ride on broomsticks; but I'll tell you this: My father was no fibber. He told me one day that a certain woman went at their house from time to time. They never saw her come in at the door like one might see another person do, but she simply fell plump in the middle of the kitchen.
I had it all arranged that they were to have it alone; but that miserable little fibber up-stairs struck eleven at half-past ten, and Miss Greggory heard it and thought she was fifteen minutes late. So down she hurried, half awake, and spoiled all my plans.
The young story-teller! The fact is, that on the Southampton coach, the day previous, James Crawley had met the Tutbury Pet, who was coming to Brighton to make a match with the Rottingdean Fibber; and enchanted by the Pet's conversation, had passed the evening in company with that scientific man and his friends, at the inn in question. "I I'd best go and settle the score," James continued.
But the two had become fast friends, and Winnie told me how they sat together chatting often for pleasant half hours at a time. I told Ruth about the strange boy at Vicky Van's house. "Yes," she said, "I've heard about him. Mr. Stone picked him up somewhere and he uses him as a sort of outside scout. He has all confidence in him, though I believe the little chap rejoices in the name of Fibber."
"Be nasty to her!" snapped Mercy, from her corner. "Now, Mercy!" begged Ruth, shaking a finger at the lame girl. "I wouldn't mind what Mitchell says or does," sniffed The Fox. "Fibber!" exclaimed Mercy. "I never tell lies, Miss," said Mary Cox, tossing her head. "Humph!" ejaculated the somewhat spiteful Mercy, "do you call yourself a female George Washington?" "No.
"Gully," said Cashel, his eyes sparkling, "I should like to see one of those chaps we saw on the common pitch into the doctor get him on the ropes, you know." Gully's mouth watered. "Yes," he said, breathlessly; "particularly the fellow they called the Fibber. Just one round would be enough for the old beggar. Let's come out into the playground; I shall catch it if I am found here."
"No, you didn't hear me say anything," exclaimed Bob quickly, fearful lest he might be put to shame before the girls. "I'm not a bit hungry." "Fibber!" whispered Ned, though not so low but what they all heard, and the girls burst into laughter. "Never mind," spoke Olivia. "Come on, Bob. I'll take care of you. The cook and I are great friends," and the girl and Bob walked on ahead.
"Oh, I don't think I must come any more," roguishly. "I'm sure Brother Dudley will not consent." "What has Brother Dudley go to do with it?... Did he consent this time?" "Not exactly. I anticipated his willingness." "You little fibber. You mean you anticipated his firm refusal, and took French leave, so that you need not disobey him."
Word Of The Day