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Updated: June 27, 2025
He couldn't look like that surplused boy, though. He sorter made me think of Little Eva in the play they give down to Milt's school. I wish Bud's hair was yaller and curly instead of black and straight!" Amarilly's reminiscences next carried her to the look she had seen in the rector's eyes when he beheld Colette coming out of the church.
As he raised his head, and his spectacles flashed, Claire caught Milt's arm and gasped, "Oh, my dear, I'm in a beautiful state of nerves. For a moment I thought that was Jeff Saxton. I bet it is his astral body!" "And you thought he was going to forbid your running away on this fool expedition, and you were scared," chuckled Milt, as they sat in the car. "Of course I was! And I still am!
Milton at last, just as the Ida entered a roaring fall, brought Forrester to the gunwale, but having achieved this, the end of the rope dropped from his fingers and he lay inert, his eyes closed. Forrester clung to the edge of the boat and roared to Enoch: "Milt's fainted!" But Enoch, fighting to guide the Ida, dared not stop rowing. The falls were short, with a vicious whirlpool at the foot.
J. C., old man, say 'when. Help yourself to another cigar, Blatch." As a host few could outshine the Honorable Milton in geniality, and there was little room in any man's system for pessimism in company with four glasses of the Honorable Milt's special brand of Kentucky Bourbon. J. Cuthbert Nickleby's manner was one of open enthusiasm. Elation possessed him. His laugh was frequent and boisterous.
While Rod was glad, for Joe's sake, that he was well enough to come back, he could not help feeling some anxiety on his own account, now that he would no longer be needed as brakeman. This anxiety was unexpectedly relieved by the engineman; who, while standing beside him at a water station, turned and said: "Joe's coming back." "Yes; to-morrow." "Milt's going to leave." "So I hear."
You're a bloomin' little island way off on the dim silver skyline." Claire knitted her brows. She had not seen Milt's rhetoric. "You're an island of Hesperyds or Hesperides. Accent on the bezuzus. Oh, yes, moondream, I think you better come. Haven't decided" Milt's tone was bland "whether to kill you or just have you pinched. Miss Boltwood! Switch off your power!"
Daggett Oh, Jeff, this is our good friend Milt Daggett, who has helped us along the road." Jeff's lucid rimless spectacles stared at Milt's wind-reddened eyes; his jaunty patch-pocket outing clothes sniffed at Milt's sweater; his even voice followed Milt's grunt of surprise with a curt "Ah. Mr. Daggett." "Pleased meet you," faltered Milt.
On Milt's shoulder rode Vere de Vere who, in her original way, relieved one pause by observing "Mrwr."
The engineers had few of them the interest in dances, athletics, college journalism, which distinguished the men in the academic course. They were older, and more conscious of a living to earn. And Milt's cheerful, "How's the boy?" his manner of waving his hand as though to a good customer leaving the Red Trail Garage with the generator at last tamed indicated that he was a "good fellow."
And he had dropped back. The Gomez was going on alone. There was only one thing more for Claire to jump. And that meant death. The tough was storming, "Your friend's a crack shot with his mouth!" The thin pit-pit-pit was coming again. She looked back. She saw Milt's bug snap forward so fast that on a bump its light wheels were in the air.
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