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Updated: May 15, 2025
Grater had seized the moment while their backs were turned to free himself of the cords which bound him and was running rapidly up the tunnel. "He'll close the door on us!" Malay Kris shouted, and set off in pursuit. With dismay Hortense and Andy perceived that they must meet Jeremiah's attack, for Highboy and Lowboy were of no use in a fight.
It had, however, the effect of intensifying his desire, his passion for her fragility of silk and flesh. He would kiss her hate on her mouth. She sat by the bedside, and Howat took a place opposite her. Candles burned on a highboy, on a table at his back; and their auriferous light flowed in about the bedstead.
The light from the candle made him seem very melancholy and sad, ridiculously so, Hortense thought. "You are funny looking," said Hortense aloud. The highboy, she thought, regarded her reproachfully. "Why don't you speak?" said Hortense, "instead of looking so woebegone." "You'll only make fun of me," said Highboy in a tearful voice.
It was nearly sundown; so Andy ran home, and Hortense returned to the house to change her dress for supper. Said she to Highboy, "To-night you and Malay Kris and I are going to hide in the secret room in the attic. There Andy will join us, and we will watch for Jeremiah and the other." "I do not wish to see Jeremiah or the other," said Highboy. "Nevertheless, you must come," said Hortense firmly.
She looked around our sitting-room, and eyed our old-fashioned highboy, of which we are very proud, and an old-fashioned table which becomes a chair when properly manipulated. "Those will be just the things to go in one of the rooms," said she, without so much as asking our leave.
Hortense demanded. "Over there in the raspberry patch," said Lowboy, "but I fear he's in as bad shape as I am." And so it proved, for when they came upon Highboy in the middle of the patch he was seated on the ground, lazily picking berries from the stems about his head. "Get up and come with us," Hortense commanded. Highboy shook his head. "I must serve my sentence," said he.
So, with a manner of wearing goggles and gauntlets, he led the women and the shambling son-in-law and the brazenly sloppy Uncle Joe through the flowery youth and into the raftered room, with its new fireplace and old William and Mary chairs, its highboy covered with brassware, and its little tea-tables with slender handicraft vases each containing one marigold.
She sought desperately for some topic of conversation that would lead the man's thoughts from the highboy and prevent the return of the mood she had discovered at the sale. "You Phares," she began confusedly, "you are going to baptize this next time, Aunt Maria thought." "Yes." The preacher looked at the girl. The exhilarating influence of the early June outdoors was visible in her countenance.
Look at this, everybody a chest of drawers, a highboy, some people call it, but it's pretty by any name. All of it is genuine mahogany trimmed with inlaid pieces of white wood. Start it up, somebody. What will you give for the finest thing we have here at this sale to-day? What's bid? Good! I'm bid five dollars to begin; shows you know a good thing when you see it. Five dollars make it ten?"
The mahogany highboy, so much packed and garnered life cut into inanimate wood; the andirons, so much life; the bookshelves upon which John Templeton kept his "Life of Napoleon Bonaparte," so much life. Life for sale, gentlemen! What am I offered to-day for this bit of life and this and this Mr.
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