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He was amazing, and had a penholder behind his ear. "I shook hands with this miracle, and I learned he was the Company's chief accountant, and that all the bookkeeping was done at this station. He had come out for a moment, he said, 'to get a breath of fresh air. The expression sounded wonderfully odd, with its suggestion of sedentary desk-life.
Paint's inches thick on the bulkheads, and a shell in here would start fires all over the place. Bunje, if you want to write letters you'd better go somewhere else and do it." The Indiarubber Man thumped the blotting-paper on his freshly written sheets and looked up with his penholder between his teeth. "I've finished, Number One. Admit your hired bravoes."
Then I lit out for the barn, and after feedin', I come back and tuck my pen and ink out on the porch, and jest cut loose. I writ and writ till my fingers was that cramped I couldn't hardly let go of the penholder. And the poem I send you is the upshot of it all. Ef you don't find it cheerful enough fer your columns, I'll have to knock under, that's all!"
The purse Horry gave her was 'too lovely. Reginald's penholder was the very thing she had been wanting for an age. Dear little Eva's pomatum-pot was perfection. The point-lace handkerchief Ida had worked in secret was exquisite. Blanche's crochet slippers were so lovely that their not being big enough was hardly a fault. They were much too pretty to be worn.
The earning of money should be a means to an end; for more than thirty years I began to support myself at sixteen I had to regard it as the end itself. I could imagine that my old penholder feels reproachfully towards me. Has it not served me well? Why do I, in my happiness, let it lie there neglected, gathering dust?
It was Dan's turn next. "I can't think of anything to start with," he said, gnawing his penholder fiercely. "You might make a resolution not to eat poison berries," suggested Felicity. "You'd better make one not to nag people everlastingly," retorted Dan. "Oh, don't quarrel the last night of the old year," implored Cecily. "You might resolve not to quarrel any time," suggested Sara Ray.
To others he was held up by what is called a Representative Press as a second Crichton. And all this because he was dead. Such is glory. All unconscious of these honours, honest Jem Agar sat in his little tent, nibbling the end of his penholder the gift, by the way, of his father and wishing that he had bought a Letts's diary with six days in a page instead of three. Well waited is well done.
"Well, Miss Owen," said "Cobbler" Horn, rising to his feet, "I must be going to my cobbling. If you want me, you will know where to come." "Yes, Mr. Horn." She was aware of his custom of resorting now and then to his old workshop. When he was gone, she paused for a moment, with her penholder once more between her lips.
The little girl's eyes, wandering upward, took note of Jane's papa's house, and of a fierce young gentleman framed in an open window up-stairs. He was seated, wore ink upon his forehead, and tapped his teeth with a red penholder. "Who is that?" she asked. "It's Willie." "Is it your papa?" "NO-O-O-O!" Jane exclaimed. "It's WILLIE!" "Oh," said the little girl, apparently satisfied.
Daffingdon bit at the end of the penholder and made a dog-ear on the topmost of the steel-gray sheets. "Come," said Virgilia. "Whatever follies may have begun to churn in their poor weak noddles, we will not draw upon the early pages of the local annals, we will not attempt to reconstruct the odious architecture of the primitive prairie town. Come; there are twelve large lunettes, you say?"
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