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Updated: June 21, 2025
What sort of a bounder was he to look at? I used to know a Swede in the Turkish army nice fellow, too." "Tall and thin and white-faced, with bumpy cheek-bones, and hollows under them, and queer green eyes. Oh, and little goldy side-whiskers." "By Jove! It sounds the limit." Gyp murmured, with a smile: "Yes; I think perhaps he is." She saw him next day in the gardens.
"I'd take now, if your grandma has one that's all spotted, you might take that, couldn't you? Then some days you'd love the yellow spots, and some days you'd love the black spots, and some days " "Ooh! And I could call it all the nice names I want to call it!" The little girl pressed her hands together rapturously. "When my kitty's got its yellow-spotty day, I'll call him Goldy, and when "
In other words, I'm at work on a panel of peacocks and goldy sunbeams for her music room at home, and am only tolerated because I can draw little birdies with pretty eyes in their tails better than anyone who happens to be here now." Patricia forgot Miss Merton in her sudden interest. "Oh, are you doing some panels for her?" she asked, leaning forward with shining eyes.
Susanna caught her breath as she threw her chamber window wider open in the early morning; for the greater part of the picture had been painted during the frosty night. "Throw your little cape round your shoulders and come quickly, Sue!" she exclaimed. The child ran to her side. "Oh, what a goldy, goldy morning!" she cried.
"Wasn't nobody's, only mummy's. You said they were for her. Charlotte wasn't naughty." "Did you find it on the floor?" "No." "Where then?" "Dey was all in nice itty rows on the table. I only taken one pitty goldy penny. Mummy gives me goldy pennies always." "Sovereigns for playthings, Renata. That's very immoral." "No, only new halfpennies. Charlotte didn't know any better, Aymer."
Of course he knew that this couldn't be, but it seemed as if it must be, for the song the stranger was singing was something like that of Goldy. The stranger's head and throat and back were black, just like Goldy's, and his wings were trimmed with white in just the same way. But the rest of his suit, instead of being the beautiful orange of which Goldy is so proud, was a beautiful chestnut color.
He accounted for it by concluding that much both of the sentiments and expression of the poem had been derived from conversations with Johnson. "He imitates you, sir," said this incarnation of toadyism. "Why, no, sir," replied Johnson, "Jack Hawksworth is one of my imitators, but not Goldsmith. Goldy, sir, has great merit."
Do you know who he reminds me of, Jenny Wren?" "Who?" demanded Jenny. "Goldy the Oriole," replied Peter promptly. "Only of course he's ever and ever so much smaller. He's all black and orange-red and white something as Goldy is, only there isn't quite so much orange on him." For just an instant Zee Zee sat still with his tail spread.
One night he did actually do it, or seemed to; for I've never been able to decide whether I dreamed what I'm going to tell you, or whether it really happened. It was a stormy night! and, as I drew down my curtain, I said to myself, after peering through the driving snow to catch a glimpse of my neighbour, 'Poor Goldy! he'll have a rough time of it.
Thank goodness I'm not so weak-minded that I can be imposed on in any such way as that." "Speaking of the Vireos, Redeye seems to be the only member of his family around here," remarked Peter. "Listen!" commanded Jenny Wren. "Don't you hear that warbling song 'way over in the big elm in front of Farmer Brown's house where Goldy the oriole has his nest?" Peter listened.
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