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Updated: May 14, 2025
I was silent, pondering the fearful meaning which had been rendered plainer and more hideous by the painted symbols. "It has to do with the magic of the Seneca priesthood," I muttered. "Here is a foul screed and yet a message, too, to you." Then, with an effort I found courage to read, as it was written: "I speak! Thou, Lois, mightest have been destroyed! Thus! Keep listening to me, Lois.
Not by threats and by tumulting around as you have been doing! You've got a lot to learn. Listen to me!" Mr. Britt paused and blinked and listened. Mr. Harnden plucked out a pencil and made believe write a screed on the palm of his hand while he talked. "'By the twining tendrils of their affections you can sway 'em to and fro, as the poet said, speaking of women. I am loved in my home.
If he were talking about a trifling letter he had received seven years before, he was pretty sure to deliver you the entire screed from memory.
"What are you up to; making trouble with that editorial screed of yours?" he growled at the younger man. Banneker smiled. He accepted that growl from Poultney Masters, not because Masters was a great and formidable figure in the big world, but because beneath the snarl there was a quality of no, not of friendliness, but of man-to-man approach. "No. I'm trying to cure trouble, not make it." "Umph!
One rather pathetic screed, beginning: Well, wife, I doubt this will be a poor letter, for I canna get one of they green envelopes to-day, but I'll try my best Bobby Little sealed and signed without further scrutiny. One more picture, to close the record of our trivial round. It is a dark, moist, and most unpleasant dawn.
By this simple screed, called a will, embodying one man's capricious indulgence, these boys, utterly incompetent even to grasp the magnitude of the fortune owned by them, and incapable of exercising the glimmerings of management, were given legal, binding power over a mass of people for generations.
"A letter from Louise? I don't want to hear it." "John." "I don't want to hear another crazy screed from her. Where is she? Is she coming home? Read it." During the reading he listened with one hand cupped behind his ear though his hearing was not impaired and when the last word had been pronounced, he said: "Likes to be mysterious, doesn't she? Well, I hope she'll get enough of it.
'Confusions! replied the farmer, laughing in derision. 'Lord, Captain, naething confuses my head. I ance jumped up and laid the dogs on the fox after I had tumbled from the tap o' Christenbury Craig, and that might have confused me to purpose. Na, naething confuses me, unless it be a screed o' drink at an orra time.
'Right, title, and interest in and to' . . . 'forever warrant and No, Garvey, we'll have to leave out that 'defend," said Goree with a loud laugh. "You'll have to defend this title yourself." The mountaineer received the amazing screed that the lawyer handed him, folded it with immense labour, and laced it carefully in his pocket. Goree was standing near the window.
Have you an idea?" Harley laughed good-naturedly. "I had one once, but it's lost," he said. "As to that picture, they're bringing out a book for me," he added, modestly. "Good ad., you know." "When you are through with that, Professor," I put in, "let me have it, will you? I want to see what it says about Harley." "It's a first-rate screed," replied the Professor, handing over the publication.
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