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Updated: May 31, 2025
"I'll stay, with pleasure," she said. Mr. Jenney pronounced grace. Victoria sat across the table from Austen, and several times the consciousness of his grave look upon her as she talked heightened the colour in her cheek. He said but little during the meal. Victoria heard how well Mrs. Jenney's oldest son was doing in Springfield, and how the unmarried daughter was teaching, now, in the West.
"Perhaps Mr. Jenney will not agree with you," she retorted. But Mr. Jenney was hitching the horse and throwing a blanket over him. Suddenly, before they realized it, the farmer had vanished into the storm, and this unexplained desertion of their host gave rise to an awkward silence between them, which each for a while strove vainly to break.
Jenney of the apple orchard, but holding out a horny hand with unmistakable warmth, "how be you, Austen?" Looking about him, Mr. Jenney put his hand to his mouth, and added, "Didn't expect to see you trailin' on to this here kite." He took a piece of cake between his thumb and forefinger and glanced bashfully at Victoria. "Have some lemonade, Mr. Jenney? Do," she urged.
My personal staff, as usual, have served their country with fidelity, and credit to themselves, throughout these events, and have received my personal thanks. Inclosed you will please find a map of that part of the battle-field of Chattanooga fought over by the troops under my command, surveyed and drawn by Captain Jenney, engineer on my staff. I have the honor to be, your obedient servant,
"You're not a-going to do anything of the kind," cried Mrs. Jenney from the doorway. "Supper's all ready, and you're going to walk right in." "Oh, I really have to go," Victoria exclaimed. "Now I know it ain't as grand as you'd get at home," said Mr. Jenney. "It ain't what we'd give you, Miss Victoria, that's only simple home fare, it's what you'd give us.
The thirty-third in the long series met at Oswego in the Presbyterian Church in 1901 and was welcomed by Mayor A. M. Hall. Addresses were made by Miss Susan B. Anthony, honorary president of the National American Woman Suffrage Association; Dr. Anna Howard Shaw, its vice-president-at-large; Alice Stone Blackwell, its recording secretary; Harriet May Mills and Julie R. Jenney of Syracuse.
What was this curious attraction that roused the interest of all who came in contact with him? The doctor had it, Mr. Redbrook, Jabe Jenney, even Hamilton Tooting, she remembered. And he attracted women as well as men it must be so. Certainly her own interest in him a man beyond the radius of her sphere and their encounters had been strange enough!
What was this curious attraction that roused the interest of all who came in contact with him? The doctor had it, Mr. Redbrook, Jabe Jenney, even Hamilton Tooting, she remembered. And he attracted women as well as men it must be so. Certainly her own interest in him a man beyond the radius of her sphere and their encounters had been strange enough!
Beyond the farm-house, on the other side of the road, was a group of gray, slate-shingled barns, and here two figures confronted her. One was that of the comfortable, middle-aged Mr. Jenney himself, standing on the threshold of the barn, and laughing heartily, and crying: "Hang on to him That's right get him by the nose!"
Jenney pricks up his ears, and presently to his amazement perceives a Leviathan approaching him, careening over the ruts of his wood road. Not being an emotional person, he continues to pick apples until he is summarily hailed. Then he goes leisurely towards the Leviathan. "Are you Mr. Jenney?" "Callate to be," says Mr. Jenney, pleasantly. "I'm Humphrey Crewe." "How be you?" says Mr.
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