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I've seen him smile when I talked to him." "I'm not astonished at that, Mabel," laughed Vane. His companion looked up at him. "My name's not Mabel to you. I'm Mopsy to the family, but my special friends call me Mops. You're one of the few people one can be natural with, and I'm getting sick you won't be shocked of having to be the opposite. If you'll come along, I'll show you the setter puppies."
It was nothing more than the closing of the smoking room door behind him. Sailors with buckets and mops were already beginning their nightly tasks. He must go to his state room! Somehow or other, he must get through the night... He did it, but he was not a very prepossessing looking object when he staggered out on deck twelve hours later, into the noon sunshine.
However, with their black eyes under their tangled mops they were all so much alike that only their mothers could identify them. And the whole resembled a teeming camp of misery pitched on that spot of majestic disaster, that street of palaces, unfinished yet already in ruins. With a soft, loving smile, Benedetta turned to her cousin.
Captain Devore was a very good old religious kind of an officer, very strange and different from any other officer. The most that he believed in was to keep clean. He was very fond of seeing brooms, mops, picks and shovels in use. He liked to see work going on. He seemed to be too economical to eat as much as he needed of government rations.
"In a minute, Mops. Wait for me!" Midget sat down on the staircase window-seat, and in a moment King joined her there. "Hello, Mopsy-Doodle! Merry Fourth of Ju New Year's!" "Hello, yourself! Oh, King, isn't it a gorgeous day? What shall we do first?" "I dunno! We can't shoot things or make much noise, until Father and Mother get up. It would be mean to wake them."
The Yorkshireman entered the little ante-room a sort of scullery, full of mops, pans, dirty shoes, dusters, candlesticks and the first thing that caught his eye was Jorrocks's sword, which Agamemnon had been burnishing up with sandpaper and leather, lying on a table before the window.
And if she isn't too stuck-up, I'll try to like her." A few afternoons later, King, who was sitting by a front window, called out: "Hi! I say, Mops! Here's the new family moving into the Fulton house!" Marjorie only upset a waste-basket and a very small table as she ran to the window to look out.
What's your name?" "My name is Stella Martin. What's yours?" "My real name is Marjorie Maynard. But I'm almost always called Midge or Mops or some name like that. We all have nicknames at home; don't you?" "No, because you see I haven't any brothers or sisters. Mother always calls me Stella." "Well, let's go and ask her if you can't come into my car for a while.
I'm sure they're good parts." "This one is from King, that's Kingdon, my brother," explained Marjorie, as she took up the next note. "Mops is a captive Princess now, She can't get out of prison; But when it's time to let her go, Oh, won't she come home whizzin'! This poetry isn't very good, But it's the best that I can sing, I would do better if I could, And I'm your loving brother KING."
"Oh, Kitty, she'll have to! Why, she vowed it!" "Oh, pshaw, she'll get mad and forget all about that vow. Say, Mops, what do you think? I've learned to make cake." "You have! Who taught you?" "Eliza did, up at Grandma's. It was fine. I'll teach you, if you like." "Do!" urged King. "Then Midge can make little cakes for the Sand Club. Ellen makes 'em sometimes, but she says it's a bother."
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