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When these had been dispatched for steak, for broiled white-fish of the lakes, noblest and delicatest of the fish that swim, for broiled chicken, for fried potatoes, for mums, for whatever the lawless fancy, and ravening appetites of the wayfarers could suggest, this fifth waiter remained to tempt them to further excess, and vainly proposed some kind of eggs, fried eggs, poached eggs, scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, or omelette.
You don't know how happy he and Mums are about it. It is what they have dreamed about and planned, for years. I'm the only son, you know. It's up to me." "But, Phil! It is an awful sacrifice for you." For once Carlotta forgot herself completely. "Not a bit of it. It is a flourishing concern not just a two-by-four village shop a real department store, doing real business and making real money.
At her knee he halted, and shot sharp glances up at her. But the peace in her face made him feel foolish, and he said in an off-hand manner: "Mummie, Miss Lawrence says my map of the Severn is the best," and then turned to look at the tea-table. "Ooh, mums, milk-loaf!" She could see as he continued that all was well with him.
"But, Mums, I was busy," Phil defended himself. "It is no end of a job to put things like that through properly." "Most things worth doing are no end of a job. Your father would have taken it with all the rest he has on his hands and made a success of it.
Haven't you had quite enough of a lecture for once?" his mother smiled back. "I reckon I needed it. Thank you, Mums. I'll turn over a new leaf if it isn't too late. I'll go to the dance and I'll ask them if there is still a place for me on the library committee and I'll start a troop of Scouts myself another bunch I've had my eyes on for some time." "That will please Dad very much.
You're like your father, and perhaps you admire that sort of thing; but they are not to my taste. Here's the key of my wardrobe. You will find the tin boxes which hold the jewels. You can take them; only never let out a word to your stepfather. He doesn't know I posses them no one does." "Thank you, mother," said Maggie in a low voice. "Will you lie down on the sofa, mums?
I forgot there are other things to think about." She held out her hand to me. "Look at my ring. Married isn't it funny? Ha, ha! Nobody will ever understand that's funny too! Poor Gran! You see, there wasn't any reason only me. That's the only reason I'm telling you now; Mums is there but she doesn't count; why don't you count, Mums?"
When these had been dispatched for steak, for broiled white-fish of the lakes, noblest and delicatest of the fish that swim, for broiled chicken, for fried potatoes, for mums, for whatever the lawless fancy, and ravening appetites of the wayfarers could suggest, this fifth waiter remained to tempt them to further excess, and vainly proposed some kind of eggs, fried eggs, poached eggs, scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, or omelette.
And if you are a very wise little mother you will tell him that you are happier alone with him." "Which I am I am," said Mrs. Howland. "He is a dear, quite a dear; and so comical and amusing!" "Then it's all right," said Maggie. "You know I told you yesterday that nothing would induce me to live at Laburnum Villa; but I will certainly come to you, mums, in the holidays, if you wish it."
Yet she could not stand in the street, waiting for O'Reilly to come to the rescue. Kit and the man who had talked to Kit might be ready to pounce upon her there. "Don't be frightened, Mums! It's only me, back earlier than I expected," Ellen Blackburne announced herself at the door of her mother's bedroom. Mrs. Blackburne was propped up in bed, reading Young's "Night Thoughts."
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