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Updated: May 4, 2025
Angeline Phinney was in her glory. The meeting between Captain Cy and Mr. Atkins took place the morning after the latter's return. The captain and his two chums had been inspecting the progress made by the carpenters and were leaning over the new fence, then just erected, but not yet painted.
But look here, boys, you answer my question: who had the cheek to rig up that blasted piazza on my house? It starts to come down to-morrow mornin'!" Miss Angeline Phinney made no less than nine calls that afternoon.
The blue cap he always wore was set back on his head, a cigar tipped upward from the corner of his mouth, and there was a grim look in his eye and about the smooth shaven lips above the short, grayish-brown beard. "Issy" sprang from his settee and jammed the paper novel into his pocket. Ed Crocker's sunburned face turned redder yet. Sim Phinney grinned at Mr. Rowe, who was very much embarrassed.
"And in the midst of the performance Sim Phinney leans over to me with the most heavenly, resigned expression on his face, and says he: "'It ain't OUR fault, Hiram. We promised not to interfere." "What did Sam Holden and his wife say when they got home?" asked Captain Sol, when the triumphant whoops over Archibald's righteous chastisement had subsided.
And from Trumet to Ostable he journeyed, buying a chair here and a table there, braided rag mats from this one, and corded bedsteads and "rising sun" quilts from that. At least half of Bayport believed with Gabe Lumley and Miss Phinney that, if Captain Cy had not escaped from a home for the insane, he was a likely candidate for such an institution.
"I have been told that she was the Mater Cara of devout Portuguese sailors," replied Captain Phinney, "and that these tiny sea-fowl are supposed to be under her especial protection, since the fiercest of gales have no power to harm them." "How queerly names become changed and twisted out of their original shape," remarked Cabot meditatively. "The idea of Mater Cara becoming Mother Carey!"
"'Well, says I, 'we're lucky for once in "Then I stopped. When he went overboard the water had washed off his hat. Likewise it had washed off his long black hair which was a wig and his head was all round and shiny and bald, like a gull's egg out in a rain storm." "I knew he wore a wig," interrupted Phinney. "Of course you do. Everybody does now.
And never said nothin' about it?" "Why should I say anything about it? 'Twas addressed to me as town clerk, and was concernin' a matter to be took up with the board of s'lectmen. I ain't in the habit of hollerin' town affairs through a speakin' trumpet. Folks that vote for me town-meetin' day know that, I guess. Angie Phinney says to me only yesterday, 'Mr.
The Christian Law of Amusement. By James Leonard Corning, Pastor of the Westminster Presbyterian Church. Buffalo, N.Y. Phinney & Co. 16mo. pp. 162. 50 cts. Scenes and Adventures in the Army; or, Romance of Military Life. By P. St. G. Cooke, Colonel Second Dragoons, U.S.A. Philadelphia. Lindsay & Blakiston. 12mo. pp. 432. $1.00.
Mr. Simeon Phinney emerged from the side door of his residence and paused a moment to light his pipe in the lee of the lilac bushes. Mr. Phinney was a man of various and sundry occupations, and his sign, nailed to the big silver-leaf in the front yard, enumerated a few of them. "Carpenter, Well Driver, Building Mover, Cranberry Bogs Seen to with Care and Dispatch, etc., etc.," so read the sign.
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