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A brave man is mentioned as having been a "weaving woman's son," with much the same emphasis as Jeptha is spoken of as the son of an Harlot. Mechanic wares were disposed of at those stated gatherings, which combined popular games, chariot races for the nobles, and markets for the merchants.
It was a dull spring morning. The faint breeze that stirred on the hillside was damp, but odorous with new-springing herbs. As Hiram and Henry descended the aisle of the pinewood, the treetops whispered together as though curious of these bold humans who disturbed their solitude. "It doesn't look as though anybody had been here at the back end of old Jeptha Atterson's farm for years," said Hiram.
Bobbie deposited his dog-skin gloves carefully in his hat, and seated himself solemnly, trying to keep his eyes off the plum cake, for the sake of good manners. "This bread's a bit heavy, mother!" remarked Jeptha, grappling with a large loaf in the centre of the table. "I don't know how that can be," replied Mrs. Funnel cheerfully. "It rose enough." "Then it must ha' sat down again!" said Jeptha.
"You can't fool my nose when it comes to smelling burned stuff. "Well, Hiram," she continued, too full of news to remark that he was at home long before his time, "I saw the poor old soul laid away, at least. I wish now I'd got Chloe in before, and gone to see Uncle Jeptha before he was in his coffin. "But I didn't think I could afford it, and that's a fact.
That Uncle Jeptha of hern is dead," whispered Sister in Hiram's ear when she put his soup in front of him. "Ah-ha!" observed Mr. Crackit, eyeing Hiram with his head on one side, "secrets, eh? Inside information of what's in the pudding sauce?" Nothing went right at the boarding-house during the next two days. And for Hiram Strong nothing seemed to go right anywhere!
"Here's my uncle my poor mother's only brother and about the only relative I've got in the world here's Uncle Jeptha down with the grip, or suthin', and goodness knows if he'll ever get over it. And I can't leave to go and see him die peaceable." "Does he live far from here?" asked Hiram, politely, although he had no particular reason for being interested in Uncle Jeptha.
"But it seems to me," said Schell, pawing over the leaves of his ledger, "that the talk between him and old Uncle Jeptha was for a short time. The old man was mighty cautious mighty cautious." "That's what Mr. Pollock says," cried Hiram, eagerly. "But you've seen the option? "Yes." "And it reads a year? "Oh, yes." "Then how you going to get around that?" demanded Schell, with conviction.
"You know they're my favourite animals just like guinea-pigs are Bobbie's and I do want to get some new recipes for my cat-book!" "Why whatever is a cat-book, Miss Jerry?" asked Jeptha curiously. "Don't you know, Jeptha? I write down all sorts of cures for cats, and what they ought to eat; and several times it's been very useful to Miss Meadows and Maria."
"It's Mrs. Atterson I'm thinking about. And she had just made up her mind that she was anchored for the rest of her life. Besides, I don't think it is a wise thing to sell the property at that price." "No. I wouldn't sell if I was her, for no sixteen hundred dollars." "But she's got to, you see, Mr. Pollock. Pepper has the option signed by her Uncle Jeptha "
The occupants of the vehicle were Colonel Jeptha Harrington and Lem Wacker. The little express office was dark and lonely-looking when Bart again reached it. Bart unlocked the office door, shot the inside bolt carefully after him, lighted the lantern, placed it on the desk, and opened the safe.
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