Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 29, 2025
Parcher, where she visits, he's almost dead, she's stayed so long. She's awful, I think." William, to whom all was audible, shouted, hoarsely, "I'll see to YOU!" and disappeared from the window. "Will he come down here?" the little girl asked, taking a step toward the gate. "No. He's just gone to call mamma. All she'll do' ll be to tell us to go play somewheres else.
"His face has got more genuine idiocy in it than I've seen around here yet, and God knows I've been seeing some miracles in that line this summer!" "He's looking at Lola Pratt," said Mrs. Parcher. "Don't you suppose I can see that?" Mr. Parcher returned, with some irritation. "That's what's the trouble with him. Why don't he QUIT looking at her?"
And in his mother's eyes, as they slowly came to rest on his in reply, he was aware of an inscrutability strongly remindful of that inscrutable look of Jane's. "Mr. Parcher," she said, gently. Mrs. BAXTER'S little stroke of diplomacy had gone straight to the mark, she was a woman of insight.
Near her also stood her young hostess, and Wallace Banks, Johnnie Watson, and Joe Bullitt three young gentlemen in a condition of solemn tensity. Miss Parcher saw William as he emerged from the station building, and she waved her parasol in greeting, attracting the attention of the others to him, so that they: all turned and stared.
Parcher remarked, thoughtfully. "There are one or two more girls than boys here, and he's the only boy not dancing. I believe I'll " And, not stopping to complete the sentence, she rose and walked across the interval of grass to William. "Good evening, William," she said, pleasantly. "Don't you want to dance?"
The house was small, being but half of a double one, with small rooms, and the "parlor," library, and dining-room all about equally exposed to the porch which ran along the side of the house. Mr. Parcher had no refuge except bed or the kitchen, and as he was troubled with chronic insomnia, and the cook had callers in the kitchen, his case was desperate.
He rose, and, separating two of the vines which screened the end of the porch from the street, looked out. Two small maidens had paused upon the sidewalk, and were peering over the picket fence. "Mr. Parcher," said Jane, as soon as his head appeared between the vines "Mr. Parcher, Miss Pratt's gone. She's gone away on the cars." "You think so?" he asked, gravely. "We saw her," said Jane.
Miss Parcher "sang alto," Mr. Bullitt "sang bass," and Mr. Watson "sang tenor" that is, he sang as high as possible, often making the top sound of a chord and always repeating the last phrase of each line before the others finished it. The melody was a little too sweet, possibly; while the singers thought so highly of the words that Mr.
"'OH, MY BABY-TALK LADY!" cooed the terrible Jane. "Mercy!" Mrs. Baxter exclaimed. "Perhaps it's no wonder Mr. Parcher " She broke off abruptly, then inquired, "What did he do next, Jane?" "Next," said Jane, "he put the light out, an' I had to well, I just waited kind of squeeged up against the wall, an' he never saw me. He went on out to the back stairs, an' went down the stairs tiptoe, mamma.
In fact, he wore the look of a man who had been through the mill but now contemplated a restful and health-restoring vacation. For there are people in this world who have no respect for the memory of Ponce de Leon, and Mr. Parcher had come to be of their number. The elimination of William from his evenings had lightened the burden; nevertheless, Mr. Upon Mr.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking