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Updated: June 28, 2025
"And when she said she thought she'd come in and wait for you, I slammed the door on her." "What time was she here?" "Late last night. And she had a light-haired man across the street. If she thought I didn't see him, she don't know me." Then she closed the door and left me to my bath and my reflections. At five minutes before eight I was at the Incubator, where I found Hotchkiss and McKnight.
Underneath, a telegram from Washington stated that Lawrence Blakeley, of Blakeley and McKnight, had left for Pittsburg the night before, and that, owing to the approaching trial of the Bronson case and the illness of John Gilmore, the Pittsburg millionaire, who was the chief witness for the prosecution, it was supposed that the visit was intimately concerned with the trial.
So Ted fell out and stood by the wall, a very monument of dejection. When school met again the scholars noted that the ink-stains had been carefully washed and scraped from the wall and the floor, and they found Ted McKnight sprawling in his place, his head buried in his arms, dumb and unapproachable.
"Confound this arm," I said, paying for my energy with some excruciating throbs. "There's so much to be looked after, and here I am, bandaged, splinted, and generally useless. It's a beastly shame." "Don't forget that I am here," said McKnight pompously. "And another thing, when you feel this way just remember there are two less desirable places where you might be.
On the next day, Mayor David McKnight of Reading, who was acting in that capacity in the place of Mayor Joel B. Wanner, then in the field as Major of the 128th Regiment of Pennsylvania Volunteers, also issued a manifesto, in pursuance of the spirit of the Governor's proclamation, requiring the assemblage of the citizens at certain places designated within their respective wards, for the organization of companies, and also the holding of daily drills from 4 to 6 P.M.
Some such instinct made McKnight suggest division. "We look like an invading army," he said. "If she's here alone, we will startle her into a spasm. One of us could take a look around and " "What was that? Didn't you hear something?" The sound, whatever it had been, was not repeated. We went awkwardly out into the hall, very uncomfortable, all of us, and flipped a coin.
Phil grumbled inarticulately, and Jacker's tone became hoarser and more piratical still. 'Who's commandin' here? he growled. 'D'ye mean mutiny? 'Oh, shut up! said Doon, bitterly. 'No one's goin' t' mutiny, but there ain't no fun campin' here. McKnight relented. 'All right, he said, 'come down if you wanter. S'pose you'll on'y be makin' some kind of a row 'f I leave you.
"Don't take them seriously enough to defend yourself." "I am glad you think I didn't do it," I observed meekly, over the crowd. "Nothing else is of any importance." The conductor had pulled out his note-book again. "Your name, please," he said gruffly. "Lawrence Blakeley, Washington." "Your occupation?" "Attorney. A member of the firm of Blakeley and McKnight." "Mr.
"I hope so; I am pretty nearly desperate," I said doggedly. "I've got a mental toothache, and the sooner it's pulled the better." "Tut, tut," said McKnight, "think of the disgrace to the firm if its senior member goes up for life, or " he twisted his handkerchief into a noose, and went through an elaborate pantomime.
In 1774 these Indians, with permission of the General Assembly, sold their lands, and with their king, John Durant, left the State. The lands were bought by Thomas McKnight, Gideon Lamb, Peter Daugé, Major Taylor Jones, John Humphries, William Ferebee, and Thomas Pool Williams, all Revolutionary soldiers or members of the legislative bodies before or after the war.
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