United States or French Polynesia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"The name was Daverill. He's mixed it up with the old lady in the country he calls his granny." She was the more certain this was so owing to a recent controversy with Dave about this name, ending in his surrender of the pronunciation "Marrowbone" as untenable, but introducing a new element of confusion owing to Marylebone Church, a familiar landmark.
To which Aunt M'riar as a sort of Greek chorus added: "There, Davy, now, you be a good boy, and tell how old Mrs. Marrowbone is." Dave considered. "She's not the soyme oyge," said he. "She can walk to chutch and back, Sunday morning." But this was a judgment from physical vigour, possibly a fallible guide. Dave, being prompted, attempted description. Old Mrs.
Which would fix the date of this story, if nothing else did. Granny Marrowbone looked awestruck at this lady's impressive knowledge of the wicked metropolis, and was, moreover, uneasy about Dave's surroundings. She had had several other letters from Dave; the latter ones to some extent in his own caligraphy, which often rendered them obscure.
You're in a 'state, as my old housekeeper would say, but you'll be all right presently. As soon as I've made a salad, and had a marrowbone, you and I and Patsy Kernaghan are going to Nolan Doyle's ranch. . . . My dear, you must do what I say, and if you do, you'll be happy yet. I don't see how, quite, but it is so; and meanwhile, you mustn't make any mistakes. You must play the game.
Charley turned to his next neighbour with the intent to beg of him to eat his remnant of the feast. "Bless my heart, Jacques, I've no chance with the fellow on my left hand; he's stuffed quite full already, and is not quite done with his own share." "Never fear," replied his friend, looking at the individual in question, who was languidly lifting a marrowbone to his lips; "he'll do it easy.
"Now you're making of it up, Dave," said Aunt M'riar. "You be a good little boy, and say Mr. Marrowbone the Smith was old Mrs. Marrowbone's grandson. Because you know he was now don't you, Davy? You tell Mrs. Prichard he was old Mrs. Marrowbone's grandson!" Dave, however, shook his head obdurately. No concession! "Perhaps he was her son," said Mrs. Prichard.
To Marrowbone, where my Lord Mayor and Aldermen, it seems, dined to-day; and were just now going away, methought, in a disconsolate condition, compared with their splendour they formerly had when the City was standing. Home, the gates of the City shut, it being so late; and at Newgate we find them in trouble, some thieves having this night broke open prison. 3rd.
This evening we had what I call an excellent supper it consisted of a marrowbone, a piece of brisket of boiled Elk that had the appearance of a little fat on it. this for Fort Clatsop is liveing in high Stile, and in fact fiesting-.
Instead, old Maisie said reflectively, as though recalling an incident of some interest: "Oh yes! Granny Marrowbone was his other Granny in the country, where he went to stay, and saw Jones's Bull. I think she must be a nice old lady." Gwen said nothing. Better pass this by; it would be forgotten. But the strong individuality of that Bull came in the way.
It was easy to say who she was; the strain of attestation had turned on who she wasn't. Dave became fluent: "Whoy, the loydy what was a cistern, and took me in the roylwoy troyne and in the horse-coach to Granny Marrowbone." For he had never quite dissociated Sister Nora from ball-taps and plumbings. He added after reflection: "Only not dressed up like then!"
Word Of The Day