United States or Brazil ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"You can have it," said Sanford, and ran off to inquire of his mother the difference between women and ladies. Rawling, riding slowly, came up the driveway from the single lane of his village, and found the gigantic girl sitting on the steps so absorbed in this sinister toy that she jumped with a little yelp when he dismounted. "What have you there?" he asked, using his most engaging smile.
Here slept Sanford, breathing happily, so lost that he only sighed when his father crept in beside him, and did not rouse when Rawling thrust an arm under his warm weight to bring him closer, safe in the perilous night. The guest-room bed creaked beneath Bill's two hundred pounds of muscle, and Ling snored in Peter's room.
Here he found harbourage with a friendly fence, Wild's mortal enemy, who promised him a safe conduct across the seas. But the desire of work proved too strong for prudence; and in a fortnight he had planned an attack on the pawnshop of one Rawling, at the Four Balls in Drury Lane.
"God spare us from purgatory!" she shouted. "Me to sew for the eight of you? Even in the fine house his honor did be givin' the agent I could not stand the noise of it. An' who'd be mendin' Master San's clothes? Be out of this kitchen, Bill Varian!" Rawling, suffocated with laughter, reeled out of the pantry and fled to his pretty wife. "She thinks San's her own kid!" he gasped.
"'Tis a snake's bell, your Honor, which Master San did be givin' me. 'Tis welcome indeed, as I lost off my holy medal, bein' sick, forever on the steamship crossin' the west water." "But can you use a rattle for a holy medal?" said Rawling. "The gifts of children are the blessin's of Mary's self," Onnie maintained.
They locked the doors, and toward midnight Cameron rapped at the library window, his rubber coat glistening. "Not a print of the wastrel loon, sir; but the lads will bide out the night. They've whusky an' biscuits an' keep moving." "I'll come out myself," Rawling began, but the smith grunted. "Ye're no stirrin' oot yer hoos, Robert Rawling! Ye're daft!
Men fished him out of the dammed river, where logs floated, waiting conversion into merchantable planking, and the Varian boys, big, tawny youngsters, were his body-guard. These perplexed Onnie Killelia in her first days at Rawling's Hope. "The agent's lads are whistlin' for Master San," she reported to Mrs. Rawling. "Shall I be findin' him?" "The agent's lads? Do you mean the Varian boys?"
Rawling was gratified by humble obedience and excellent cookery. Sanford was gratified by her address, strange to him. He was the property of his father's lumbermen, and their wives called him everything from "heart's love" to "little cabbage," as their origin might dictate; but no one had ever called him "Master San."
Rawling shrugged, but when Varian telephoned that there were thirty men searching, he felt more comfortable. "You're using the wires a lot, Dad," said Sanford, roaming in. "Anything wrong? Where's Ling to sleep?" "In Pete's room. Good-night, Godson. No, nothing wrong." But Sanford was back presently, his eyes wide. "I say, Onnie's asleep front of my door and I can't get over her.
"The Rawling Bungalow is finished and the children are all up there for the summer," Dr. Stone wrote in 1908. "I know you will be delighted at this annex to the hospital. Of course it is only a bungalow ... but it is a blessed relief to have this place to which to send the sick little ones and those who otherwise would be left to suffer here all summer."
Word Of The Day