Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 3, 2025
Chiffield bowed stiffly, smiled mechanically, and cast a sweeping glance at the three men present. This glance, and the looks with which it was met, called up a singular train of associations. Maltboy remembered the new comer as a fellow who had trod on his corns getting into an Amity street stage.
Can't say that I do," returned Mr. Marcus Wilkeson. "And I can't say that I do, either," added Mr. Matthew Maltboy. "A horse! Why not say a donkey? I should see it quite as well." "As you please," resumed the impetuous Overtop. "A donkey, then. Perhaps the metaphor will be better.
Maltboy also steeled his too susceptible heart against the attractions which he was perpetually encountering, and kept strictly to the weather.
Daring their conversation, and the remainder of their financial dialogue, Mr. Whedell kept one ear, and occasionally one eye, inclined toward his daughter and the favored Maltboy. If there was a hint conveyed in those side glances at his daughter, she either did not notice it, or did not choose to take it. Sometimes Mr.
I do declare, we have not had a caller for more than how long is it, Gusty, since Colonel Bigford dropped in?" Maltboy thought her voice had a sweet, metallic ring. "About half an hour," replied Mrs. Frump, after a brief mental calculation. "Why, Gusty!" exclaimed Miss Whedell; "how can you sit there and tell such stories? You know it is not five minutes." "Just as you please, dear," said Mrs.
Patching and Tiffles from compulsion, as witnesses, and possible accomplices, and Overtop and Maltboy as guides, philosophers, and friends. All looked seedy and criminal, as if there were something in the atmosphere of station houses to give a man the semblance of a vagabond and an outcast.
Overtop and Maltboy, and his good friend the lieutenant of police, who had just arrived in the outer room, in order that they might hear the explanation. The boy was embarrassed by his audience; but the anxious look of Marcus, and a few kind words from the lieutenant of police, reassured him.
The old gentleman then returned to his easy chair by the window, threw a handkerchief over his head, and settled himself for a nap. Before the carpenter had struck the first blow, Matthew Maltboy rose, remarked to the widow that he wanted to stretch himself a little, and walked out upon the piazza.
"Here is one friend of the family," continued Amos, in his pleasantest manner, pointing to Matthew, "whom I don't know by name, though we've scraped an off-hand 'quaintance." "Mr. Frump Matthew Maltboy, Esq.," said old Van Quintem. Matthew, like Mrs.
"Another plan of advertising with large kites by day, and pictorial lanterns attached to their tails at night?" asked Marcus Wilkeson. "Or another Submarine Pneumatic Parcel-Delivering Tube to Brooklyn?" asked Matthew Maltboy. "Or an Association for the Cultivation of Mushrooms in Dark Cellars?" asked Fayette Overtop.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking