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Updated: June 5, 2025
Kaufman's private boarding-house in West Eighty-ninth Street, one of a breastwork of brownstone fronts, lined up stoop for stoop, story for story, and ash-can for ash-can, there were few enough greasy odors except upon the weekly occasion of Monday's boiled dinner; and, whatever the status of liver and dried peaches, canned corn and round steak, her menus remained static so static that in the gas-lighted basement dining-room and at a remote end of the long, well-surrounded table Mrs.
The kitchen windows looked out on a dirty court, at the back of which was the rear tenement of the estate. To us belonged, along with the five rooms and the right of way aforesaid, a block of upper space the length of a pulley line across this court, and the width of an arc described by a windy Monday's wash in its remotest wanderings.
Monday's mops and pails broke in upon the spell of Amarilly's spiritual enchantment to some extent, but remembrance of the scenic effects lingered and was refreshed by the clothes-line of vestal garb which manifested the family prosperity, and heralded to the neighborhood that the Jenkins's star was in the ascendant. "Them Jenkinses," said Mrs.
These, too, were forthcoming, as well as a paper of "indigo blue" for the next Monday's washing, and other items which testified strongly as to "how much at a time" Mrs. Myers was in the habit of buying. It was all over in less than half a minute, but Dick's assailants looked very much as if they wanted to sink right down through the grass. "Go home, Joseph," said Ford; "go home, Foster.
He looked from one to the other, questioningly. "Taking this over to my Dad," Jimsy explained. "Back in a shake." "I see. How about a ride to the beach? Supper at the ship-hotel? Celebrate a little?" "Deuce of a lot of work for Monday," Jimsy frowned. "Haven't studied a lick this week." Carter laughed. "Oh, Monday's Monday! Come along!
The Rube insisted on pitching Monday's game against the Torontos, and although poor fielding gave them a couple of runs, they never had a chance. They could not see the ball. The Rube wrapped it around their necks and between their wrists and straight over the plate with such incredible speed that they might just as well have tried to bat rifle bullets. That night I was happy.
As for the weather, as Dame Hopkins piously remarked: "If Monday's weather be not fit for washing, there is no promise in Holy Writ of anything better in the rest of the week."
'Venison, eh? answered the Counsellor alertly, but presently added 'But no! it's impossible; and I can't ask you home neither. Monday's a sacred day; so's Tuesday; and Wednesday we are to be heard in the great teind case in presence, but stay it's frosty weather, and if you don't leave town, and that venison would keep till Thursday 'You will dine with me that day? 'Under certification.
Monday's "Blade" contained additional light on the nitroglycerine affair -or what passed as "light." Len Spencer and the local police had discovered that at least three of the wealthiest men in town had received, during the last few weeks, threatening letters from cranks. These cranks had all demanded money, under pain of severe harm if they failed to turn over the money.
"In the undertaker's chapel tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock. They are going to take her remains back to her old home on Monday's steamer. Do say you will, Mrs. Roberts, please." I consented, provided I should be allowed to give a message to the living. She gladly acquiesced.
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