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Updated: May 16, 2025
There stood the teacher, with his face very calm but very pale, and Jack felt his heart sink. One by one the laggards filed into the school-room, while the awe-stricken girls on the opposite benches, and the little A B C boys, watched the guilty sinners take their places, prepared to meet their fate. Riley came in with a half-insolent smile on his face, as if to say: "I don't care."
Poor Riley took Lilly's death so much to heart that he never afterwards was the man he previously had been. He became indifferent, and neglected his duty. There was something remarkable in the manner of his death. He was tried for his life, and sentenced to be shot. During the trial and subsequently, he discovered an indifference truly astonishing.
You talk of figures, now; you have only to say to Stelling, 'I want my son to be a thorough arithmetician, and you may leave the rest to him." Mr. Riley paused a moment, while Mr. Tulliver, some-what reassured as to clerical tutorship, was inwardly rehearsing to an imaginary Mr. Stelling the statement, "I want my son to know 'rethmetic." "You see, my dear Tulliver," Mr.
He was whiskerly, whiskyly, fleshily formidable. So, Black Riley temporized. "Wot'll you take for it, den?" he asked. "Money," said Fuzzy, with husky firmness, "cannot buy her." He was intoxicated with the artist's first sweet cup of attainment.
A moment later, his head pushing up to the level of the shoulder of the mountain, he saw his quarry. In the dimness of that early dawn he made out the form of a sleeper huddled in blankets, but it was enough. That must be Riley Sinclair. It could not be another, and all his premonitions were correct. Suddenly he became aware that he could not fail. It was impossible!
It was in his power definitely to put the blame on another man; then he could remain in this community as long as he wished, to work his will upon Sandersen. Sandersen himself was a great problem. If Bill had spoken up in good faith to save Sinclair from the posse that morning, the Riley felt that he was disarmed.
As he spoke he turned to the hall door, and walked out into the street bareheaded. "For the love of the Lord, sir," Riley remonstrated, keeping well out of the way himself. But Captain Caldwell walked off down the middle of the road alone deliberately to the police station, his wife standing meanwhile on the doorstep, with the light behind her, coolly awaiting his return.
Once in the woods pasture, Jack found himself out of breath, having run steadily for a rough mile and a half, part of it up-hill. He was yet forty yards ahead of Bob Holliday and Riley, who led the hounds. Dashing into a narrow path through the underbrush, Jack ran into a little clump of bushes and hid behind a large black-walnut log.
"I say, Henrietta, she's j-u-s-t s-p-l-e-n-d-i-d!" whispered Maria Thomas. And Rob Riley thought Miss Reade was almost as fine as Henrietta herself. "You see," said Miss Reade to Henrietta after school, "that the hind legs of your cow look longer than the fore legs." "There's something wrong." said the girl, "but that isn't it.
It's manny th' time I've licked ye good, Jimmie, when ye was a la-ad, an' it's agin I'll do it if I has ter, ter learn ye honesty. Now git up an' set in that chair an' do phwat I tell ye, if ye know phwat's best f'r ye." James Riley rose from the floor and sat obediently in the chair his father indicated.
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