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"While nurse is getting your dinner ready, let's look out of window, and see if it's going to clear up." Mr. Thorpe raised his head disapprovingly from his book, but said nothing this time. "Ah, rain! rain! rain!" muttered Mr. Goodworth, staring desperately out at the miserable prospect, while Zack amused himself by rubbing his nose vacantly backwards and forwards against a pane of glass.
With that expression of opinion, the page approached the church portico, and waited sulkily among his fellow servants and their umbrellas for the congregation to come out. When Mr. Goodworth and Mrs.
"Yes," said Zack, acknowledging the pudding suggestion, but declining to profit by it. "And, please, when I've had my dinner, will somebody put me to bed?" "Put you to bed!" exclaimed Mr. Goodworth. "Why, bless the boy! what's come to him now? He used always to be wanting to stop up." "I want to go to bed, and get to to-morrow, and have my picture-book," was the weary and whimpering answer.
"I shall always be happy, sir, to listen to any expression of your opinion " "My opinion's this," burst out Mr. Goodworth. "You've no business to take Zack to church at all, till he's some years older than he is now. Stop! I don't deny that there may be such children, though I never met with them myself, and should think them all impudent little hypocrites if I did! Zack "
Goodworth was thinking profoundly, the rain was falling inveterately, the fog was thickening dirtily, and the austerity of the severe-looking parlor was hardening apace into its most adamantine Sunday grimness, as Zack was brought to say his lesson at his father's knees.
"Ah, you're his friend!" "Yes." "Well," said Mr. Wotherspoon, straightening himself from the contemplation of the roses, "there's no greater thing than to have a steadfast friend!" It seemed that an expedition had been planned, for a servant now appeared to say that coach and horses were at the door. Mr. Touris explained: "I've engaged to show Mr. and Mrs. Goodworth our considerable town. Mr.
There are Alison and Mrs. Goodworth and Munro Touris by the roses." Glenfernie went over to the roses. Mrs. Alison, smiling upon him, presented him to Mrs. Goodworth, a dark, bright, black-eyed, talkative lady. He and Munro Touris nodded to each other.
I may have my own opinions I suppose, like other people; and I don't see why I shouldn't express them, especially when they relate to my own daughter's boy. It's very unreasonable of me, I dare say, but I think I ought to have a voice now and then in Zack's bringing up." Mr. Thorpe bowed respectfully partly to Mr. Goodworth, partly to the Reverend Aaron Yollop.
"The East India has ways of gathering information. Through Goodworth I can get at a good deal when I want to.... There is Wotherspoon, also. I am practically certain that Ian is in France." "When did he write?" "Alison has a letter maybe twice a year. One's overdue now." "How does he write?" "They are very short. He doesn't touch on old things except, perhaps, back into boyhood.
Thorpe, turning suddenly round, and severely confronting Mr. Goodworth, "once for all, I must most respectfully insist on being spared for the future any open profanities in conversation, even from your lips. All my regard and affection for you, as Mrs.
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