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Updated: May 19, 2025
Deborah rolled out in drenched lumps into the swilling gutter. There was a muffled shriek at the window where Mrs. Bellamy gesticulated. 'It's all right. I've paid for them, said Mr. Lingnam. He dumped out the last dregs like mould from a pot-bound flower-pot. 'What? Are you going to take 'em home with you? said the Agent-General. 'No! He passed a wet hand over his streaky forehead.
"Why, a girl's lover had his head cut off, and she put it in a flower-pot, and covered it up that way, and instead of laughing herself, set flowers to blooming over it." "Goodness me, Abel, what are you talking about?" "Of Love, the canker-worm, Sir," replied Abel, imperturbable, and emitting smoke. It was evidently not the busy season in the Dry-goods Commission House of Boniface Newt & Son.
The bitter tears fell upon the jasmine twig, and each day, as she became paler and paler, the sprig appeared to grow greener and fresher. One shoot after another sprouted forth, and little white buds blossomed, which the poor girl fondly kissed. But her wicked brother scolded her, and asked her if she was going mad. He could not imagine why she was weeping over that flower-pot, and it annoyed him.
A friend of mine once found one in the woods sitting upon the snow one day in early winter. She carried him home with her, and he burrowed in the soil of her flower-pot and came out all right in the spring. What brought him out upon the snow in December one would like to know.
Not at all; but by loosening the soil round them, and supplying them with the right kind of food in fitting quantities. Now a man is not a plant, or, at least, he is a very curious one, for he carries his soil in his stomach, which is a kind of portable flower-pot, and he grows round it, instead of out of it. He has, besides, a singularly complex nutritive apparatus and a nervous system.
"Uncle Edward came up just as we were getting him out. He was in an awful wax." "I'm afraid," Dank said, "I cheeked him." "What did you say?" "I told him he wasn't fit to have a dog. And he said we weren't to come again; and Mark said that was all we had come for to let Ponto loose." Mamma put another snail into the flower-pot, very gently. She was smiling and at the same time trying not to smile.
Water this flower-pot regularly, and mind, I have counted the leaves, and if I find one missing I will take from you the means of earning your bread." So saying he mounted his horse, and went, like a sheep that is led to the slaughter, to follow a boar.
With some difficulty she found the well, all but lost in matted weeds under an ivy-tod, and in the saucer of a flower-pot she carried him some water, and put the garment with the horrible spot in her bag, to take it away and destroy it. Then she made him eat and drink. He did whatever she told him, with a dull, yet doglike obedience.
"Oh, dear, mother!" cried she, as soon as she had taken off the top, "but there's something dark in it which smells very disagreeably. What is it? I didn't want this black stuff." "Nor I, my dear." "But what shall I do with it, mamma?" "That I cannot tell." "It will be of no use to me, mamma." "That I cannot help." "But I must pour it out, and fill the flower-pot with water."
"I explain it!" exclaimed the boy. "What do you mean?" "Oh, you know you have done things like that," returned his sister calmly. "You smashed a big flower-pot the other day, and threw the pieces away into the hedge." "Look here, Ida," cried Guy, with a great show of indignation. "You're always accusing me of doing things, and it's not fair.
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