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He is a busy little creature at night, as he likes daily to make a fresh bed of cotton-wool, and fusses about with his mouth full of material until he has arranged his little couch.
"I don't think he does anything much: taps the barometer, advises the gardener, fusses with fowls, potters in the garden, teaches the dog tricks. It makes him happy to feel himself rushed, and to go carrying unopened letters at tea-time. They have no children. Mrs. Jowett is a dear. She collects servants as other people collect prints or old china or Sheffield plate.
Charlie praises up her bread, and she takes lots of pains with it. And she just fusses with her flowers and lets him run the ranch; and, mommie, she just worships Charlie! The way she sits and looks at him when he's talking you can see she almost says prayers to him.
To think that this had once been a man! To think that his blood flowed in the veins of Zuleika! Hitherto the Duke had seen nothing grotesque in him had regarded him always as a dignified specimen of priest and scholar. Such a life as the Warden's, year following year in ornamental seclusion from the follies and fusses of the world, had to the Duke seemed rather admirable and enviable.
Holm became so light on his legs one might have thought he was treading on needles; when the derrick swung round over the quay and the chain came rattling down, he ran right back to the granary. Pelle wanted to take him on board, but he would not hear of it. "It looks a bad-tempered monster," he said: "look how it sneezes and fusses!"
I saw two once ever so long ago, but I know they did. Lots." Joy blushed, but when you've come to Arcady for only a month, and it really doesn't matter afterwards, you're very irresponsible. "Why, you see, Philip, the girl isn't supposed to start making the fusses. You'd better ask John about it some other time " she added hastily.
"Poh! we don't want boys," echoed Prudy. "They are pickin' fusses all the time." Cousin Horace stood by aunt Madge's chair, looking quite forlorn, but too proud to say a word. "See here, Horace," said Grace, very grandly, "we think you'd better go a-strawberrying to-day." "I reckon I won't if I don't want to," said Horace, working the flag out of his cap.
She fixes the wires in the bonnets of her little girls, then takes their hats off entirely, then wipes their noses, then shakes her head at them, then makes them exchange seats with each other, then finds the text and the hymns for them, then fusses with the cricket, and then fans herself unremittingly until she can see something else to do.
"Bless his 'art, he wouldn't see, nor he wouldn't scold. Ef it were rinsings of the tea-pot he would drink it instead of soup; and I say, and always will say, that ef a cook don't jelly the soup for the like of a gentleman like the doctor what have no mean ways and no fusses, she ain't fit to call herself a cook." So just because they loved him, Dr.
Poynter's face was radiant. "And after running the chance of a night in the pine barrens," he mused admiringly, "you amble out of the danger zone in the most matter-of-fact manner with your saddle clanking like a bone-yard. I don't wonder your aunt fusses. What made the racket?" "Bones and shells and things."
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