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That's the trick, my grizzled lads, To catch the cash and snare the foe!" Racka-tacka-tack-tack . . . tack-tack! RACK-tackety-tack-tack . . . tack-tack! "This aint goin' to be no cinch, 'bo," came McCorquodale's serious whisper in Kendrick's ear. "This mob's come in durin' the afternoon. We better get back an' pick up a gang o' our own some o' them guineas from the railroad.
Kendrick's gaze lingered a trifle longer, and more than once he came close to a counter and brought an eyeglass to bear on the goods there displayed, nodding pleasantly at the salespeople as he did so. And everywhere he went glances followed him. It seemed to Richard that he had never realized before what a distinguished looking old man his grandfather was.
But out of it you come with something more precious than fine gold, and that shall be my consolation." "Let it be," smiled Myra Thornhill, "as it is surely mine. Good-by." "And good luck," whispered Magee, as he took Kendrick's hand.
He insisted upon Kendrick's returning to the High Cliff House that night. "I want Mrs. Barnes to show you the room she's got vacant," he said. "Ain't no harm lookin' at a brindle calf, as the feller said; you don't have to buy the critter unless you want to." So Mr. Kendrick inspected the rooms and expressed himself as delighted with them.
But all the time I knew I knew you'd come." A cry a woman's cry sounded from just outside the door of number seven. Into the room came Myra Thornhill; quickly she crossed and took Kendrick's hands in hers. "David," she sobbed. "Oh, David is it a dream a wonderful dream?" Kendrick looked into her eyes, sheepishly at first, then gladly as he saw what was in them.
And he's hired his lawyer that young cousin of his Bailey Kendrick's son to make you sell out to him?" "Yes." "What's the young feller done about it; anything?" "No; nothin' that I know of." "Humph! Sure of that, be ye? I hear he's been spendin' consider'ble time over to Ostable lately, hangin' round the courthouse, and the probate clerk's office. Know what he's doin' that for?"
There was something peculiarly fascinating about this pictured face of Richard Kendrick's mother. Whether it was the illusive likeness to the son, showing first in the eyes, then in the mouth, which was one of extraordinary sweetness, it was hard to tell. But the attempt to analyze it was absorbing.
I'll take the will for the deed, Brother Brannum." Thus these neighbours jogged along to Felix Kendrick's funeral.
His uncle, Phil knew, had invested heavily in mining stocks, and J. Cuthbert Nickleby was the man who had been most closely associated with him in these private investments, while for some time now Ferguson had been favored with Waring's legal patronage in such deals as had come to Kendrick's notice.
Kendrick's eye brightened. So the boy wanted him, did he? Wanted to take him off for the day, the whole day, with himself. It was pleasant news. But he hesitated a little, looking toward the window, where the late March sun was, surely enough, streaming in warmly. The bare branches outside were motionless; moreover, there was no wind, such as had prevailed of late.
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