Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 28, 2025
Scobel to stick to what they called the old ways, and read the Liturgy as they had heard it when they were children. In the minds of these people, Mr. Scobel's self-devotion and hard service were as nothing, while he cut off the ten commandments from the Sunday morning service, and lighted his altar candles at the early celebration.
She ought to be very happy now, poor dear; she has the husband of her choice, and no rebellious daughter to make the atmosphere stormy. I must write to Mrs. Scobel, and ask if mamma is really not quite so well as when I left home." And then Vixen's thoughts wandered away to Rorie, and the alterations that were being made at Briarwood.
"No," cried Vixen bitterly. "We go to dinner-parties and kettledrums, and go into raptures about orchids and old china, and try to cure our broken hearts that way." "Are you coming, Violet?" asked her mother sweetly. "No, thanks, mamma. I am tired after my ride. Mrs. Scobel will help you to play cicerone." Captain Winstanley left the room without so much as a look at Violet Tempest.
We are here under protest, and we very much wonder how our people could ever have invited such rabble!" "I always feel small in a tea-room when there are only met in attendance," whispered Mr. Scobel, "they are so haughty. I would sooner ask Gladstone or Disraeli to pour me out a cup of tea than one of those supercilious creatures."
"Such a delightful set!" she exclaimed gaspingly. "I'm afraid your dress has suffered," said her partner. "Not in the least." protested Mrs. Scobel, with the fortitude of that ladylike martyr to a clumsy carver, celebrated by Sydney Smith, who, splashed from head to foot, and with rills of brown gravy trickling down her countenance, vowed that not a drop had reached her.
"Oh, Blindman's Buff is best," said Vixen. "This little wood is a splendid place for Blindman's Buff. But mind, I shall only start you. Now then, who's to be Blindman?" Mr. Scobel volunteered. He had been a tranquil spectator of the sports hitherto; but this was the last game, and he felt that he ought to do something more than look on.
A figure clothed in a long loose black cloak and slouched felt hat, and carrying a weedy umbrella, trudged sturdily around the curve, and came briskly towards the porch. It was Mr. Scobel, the incumbent of the pretty little Gothic church in the village a church like a toy. He was a good man and a benevolent, this Mr. Scobel; a hard-worker, and a blessing in the neighbourhood.
"How dreadfully I shall miss them," said Mrs. Scobel, who had spent much of her leisure with the lovers. "They are both so full of life and brightness!" "They are young and happy!" said her husband quietly. "Who would not miss youth and happiness?"
Scobel, p. 121. v Parl. Hist. vol. xix. p. 263. The nation began to apprehend that they intended to establish themselves as a perpetual legislature, and to confine the whole power to sixty or seventy persons, who called themselves the parliament of the commonwealth of England.
Yes, the old Rorie playfellow, scapegoat, friend of the dear old childish days was verily dead and gone. "Shall we go and look at the presents?" asked Captain Winstanley. "What presents?" "Lady Almira's wedding presents. They are all laid out in the library. I hear they are very splendid. Everybody is crowding to see them." "I daresay mamma would like to go, and Mrs. Scobel," suggested Vixen.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking