United States or Bahrain ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Now, my dear, you talk the damnedest nonsense!" said Simon MacTaggart firmly. "I pushed in no way; the fool dropped into your husband's hands like a ripe plum. I have plenty of shortcomings of my own to answer for without getting the blame of others." "Don't lie like that, Sim, dear," said Mrs. Petullo, decidedly. "My memory is not gone yet, though you seem to think me getting old. Oh yes!
"If yon's coortin'," he said, "it's the drollest I ever clapt een on! The man micht be a carven image, and Leevie no better nor a shifty in the pook. I hope she disnae rue her change o' mind alreadys, for I'll warrant there was nane o' yon blateness aboot Sim MacTaggart, and it's no' what the puir lassie's been used to."
I've cut with the last of it, and now my face is to the stars." His hands were spotless white, but he poured some water in a basin and washed them carefully, shrugging his shoulders with a momentary comprehension of how laughable must that sacrament be in the eyes of the worldly Sim MacTaggart.
I have in mind the particular case of young Angus MacTaggart, a lad from Glasgow, with freckles and a sunny disposition. He was a sapper by trade, and on his shoulders there devolved, on one occasion, the job of covering a trench mortar emplacement with a camouflage of wire and grass which would screen the hole in which sat the mortar from the prying gaze of Hun aeroplanes.
All I want to know is, have you any reason to think this part of Scotland and incidentally the government of this and every well-governed realm, as the libels say would be bettered by the examination of this man? Eh?" MacTaggart protested the need was clamant. "On the look of the man I would give him the jougs," said he. "It's spy "
"My dancing days are over," said Sim MacTaggart, but merely as one who repeats a formula; his eyes were roving among the women. The dark green-and-blue tartan of the house well became him: he wore diced hose of silk and a knife on the calf of his leg; his plaid swung from a stud at the shoulder, and fell in voluminous and graceful folds behind him.
At that MacTaggart lightly struck up the hand, and the button rolled twinkling along the floor. Count Victor glanced quickly round him to see that no one noticed. The hall, but for some domestics, was left wholly to themselves.
"Good morning; I hope I have not interrupted business?" "Mr. MacTaggart was just going, my dear," said Mr. Petullo. A cracked bell rang within, and the Chamberlain perceived an odour of cooking celery. Inwardly he cursed his forgetfulness, because it was plain that the hour for his call upon the writer was ill-chosen.
MacTaggart reddened and Argyll laughed, "Ah!" he cried. "Can I have hit it?" he went on, quizzing the Chamberlain. "See that you give me fair warning, and I'll practise the accustomed and essential reel. Upon my soul, I haven't danced since Lady Mary left, unless you call it so that foolish minuet. You should have seen her Grace at St. James's last month.
"Ha!" he cried, "Mr. MacTaggart! Glad to see you, Mr. MacTaggart. Sit ye down, Mr. MacTaggart. I was just thinking about you." "No ill, I hope," said the Chamberlain, refusing a seat proffered; for anything of the law to him seemed gritty in the touch, and a three-legged stool would, he always felt, be as unpleasant to sit upon as a red-hot griddle.
Word Of The Day