Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 1, 2025
Every expedient had been resorted to from surgery to soap, but the stubbly blond lock defied him. It seemed the last barrier that rose between him and cosmopolitan life. A light step on the stairs sent the mirror into the desk, and brought a look of absorbed concentration to his expansive brow. "Is Mr. Gooch here?" asked Connie Queerington, thrusting a plumed hat into his range of vision.
"Do the Queeringtons still live next door?" "Yes. You know our beloved Doctor has married again." "What! Good old Syllogism Queerington! you don't mean it! I wonder if he knows her first name? He taught me four years up at the University and never could remember mine." "Oh! here's my boy! Are you feeling better, dear?" Mrs.
Miss Hattie 'd be having indigestion inside a week, an' Bertie 'd git the croup, an' you'd have every female Queerington that could buy a railroad ticket comin' an' settin' down on you!" "But what can we do, Myrtella? I tell you the money is giving out!" "Do? I'll tell you what we can do. We can board the company!
Did you ever hear of a really pretty girl being like that?" "I hope Doctor Queerington likes her as well as you do." "Heavens, man! everybody likes her; you can't help it. But nobody understands her. You see they look on her as a child; they haven't the faintest conception of what she is going through." "And you think you have?" "I know it. She's trying to adjust herself, and she can't.
"'Course," the old darkey broke out presently, "Doctor Queerington is a powerful smart gemman, an' he teks keer ob her jes' lak she wuz one ob his own chillun. An' she's gittin' broke into de shafts, but hit's gwine hard wid her. 'Tain't natchul to hitch a young filly up to a old kerriage horse an' spec' her to keep step.
"Well, well!" cried the Doctor, rising and greeting him with outstretched hand, "a hearty welcome home. You know everybody here, I believe? Even Mrs. Queerington tells me she has met you. And this is Hattie. I am quite sure you were not prepared to see her so tall." Donald, retaining Hattie's hand, made the round of greetings. "Where are Connie and Bert?"
Meanwhile, a bedraggled little rose languished unnoticed beneath the manuscript of "The History of Norman Influence on English Language and Literature." For three hundred and sixty-five days Myrtella Flathers held undisputed sway in the house of Queerington.
The sudden change from the grim realism of a lecture platform, with its bleak blackboard and creaking chalk, to the romance of an old flower garden where blossoms flirted with each other across the borders, and birds made love in every bough, was enough to freshen the spirit of even a John Jay Queerington.
Heedless of warning he snatched at the picture, and as he did so it slipped from his fingers and the frame shattered on the floor. Doctor Queerington, at the doorway, took in the situation at a glance. He looked quickly from Myrtella's horrified face to the cringing figure of the strange child, then he smiled reassuringly.
"Thirty years since I saw some of the old boys," the Colonel said, trying to warm up to his coming journey. "I'll miss old Professor Queerington, but John Jay will be there. We are planning to come home together. Fine man, he is, fine man!" "Who? Oh, yes, Doctor Queerington." "Just a little boy when I boarded at his father's. He can't be much over forty now.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking