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Updated: June 16, 2025
"In the future be more careful while on guard duty," said Captain Putnam coldly; and there the subject was dropped. "Who fired that shot?" asked Sam, on the morning following the hazing. "Jackson," replied a cadet named Gilson, who had been one of the hazers. "The sneak!" murmured the youngest Rover. "That's what I say, Rover."
But the Gilsons and Jeff Saxton were happy about it all till the car turned from a main thoroughfare upon a muddy street of shacks that clung like goats to the sides of a high cut, a street unchanged from the pioneer days of Seattle. "Good heavens, Claire, you aren't taking us to see Aunt Hatty, are you?" wailed Mrs. Gilson. "Oh yes, indeed. I knew the boys would like to meet her."
I had quite a struggle to get through Princeton." Wasn't Mr. Gilson contrasting Saxton's silk shirt with Milt's darned cotton covering, and in light of that contrast chuckling at Milt's boast and Saxton's modesty? Milt became overheated. His scalp prickled and his shoulder-blades were damp. As Saxton turned from him, and crooned to Claire, "More ham, honey?" Milt hated himself.
"Did he know your friend Mr. Pinky?" asked Saxton. Before Milt could answer, Claire rose from the bed, inspected the Gilsons and Jeff with cold dislike, and said quietly to Milt, "The poor dear thing he was dreadfully embarrassed. It's so good of you to be nice to him. I believe in being loyal to your old friends." "Oh, so do I!" babbled Mrs. Gilson. "It's just too splendid.
The host profusely led him to a dining-room where in English fashion, or something like English fashion, or anyway a close approximation to the fictional pictures of English fashion kidneys and sausages and omelets waited in dishes on the side-board. Mr. Gilson poured coffee, and chanted: "Do try the kidneys. They're usually very fair.
You run down to the corner grocery and get some tea and a little cream. Oh, you better buy three-four cups, too. Hustle now, son!" "Attaboy! Yours to command, ladies and gents, like the fellow says!" Bill boomed delightedly. He winked at Jeff Saxton, airily spun his broken hat on his dirty forefinger, and sauntered out. "Charming fellow. A real original," crooned Mrs. Gilson.
A more somber and lonely watch even than that of these French sailors was the vigil kept by our good Belgian friend, Commandant Gilson, in the shattered village of Pervyse. With his old Maltese cat, he prowled through the wrecked place till two and three of the morning, waiting for Germans to cross the flooded fields. For him cigarettes were an endless chain that went through his life.
Gilson, with the expression of one who has swallowed castor oil and doubts the unity of the universe. There was a lack of ease about the farewells to Aunt Harriet. As they all turned away she beckoned Milt and murmured, "Did I raise the dickens? I tried to.
Another Belgian composer, Paul Gilson, has of late won more than local fame by his 'Princesse Rayon de Soleil, produced at Brussels in 1905. In modern times the stream of opéra comique has divided into two channels.
Milt was apologetically hinting, "I don't really think Bill and I'd better come to dinner this evening, Mrs. Gilson. Thanks a lot but It's kind of sudden." Claire again took charge. "Not at all, Milt. Of course you're coming. It was Eva herself who invited you. I'm sure she'll be delighted." "Charmed," said Mrs.
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