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Carl invented a game in which he was to run in circles, but not step on the grass; he made the tenth inspection that day of the drying hazelnuts whose husks were turning to seal-brown on the woodshed roof; he hunted for a good new bottle to throw at Irving Lamb's barn; he mended his sling-shot; he perched on a sawbuck and watched the street.
But after waiting a moment for an answer he took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. "I am sorry Marguerite is out," he said, as he conducted me into a reception room. The walls were hung with seal-brown draperies. There were richly upholstered chairs and a divan piled high with fluffy pillows. In one corner stood a bookcase of burnished metal filigree.
The two-wheeled cart Bobby found, when finally he and Mr. Kincaid emerged from the house carrying his valise, to be well packed with the shell-box, gun, bag and a lunch basket. Mr. Kincaid's duck-dog, named Curly, lay crouched in the bottom like a soft warm mat. Bobby had met Curly before. He was a comical seal-brown dog, covered with compact tight curls all over his body.
Caressing the seal-brown head with a gentle hand, and apparently speaking to the soft eyes that looked up at him so understandingly, the man said, "If the human race was fit to associate with such dogs, the world would be a more comfortable place to live in."
Wright had no sooner reached the auction mart than a telegram was handed him. It was from his employer, and read as follows: "There are also a pair of seal-brown pacers to be sold. Secure these in addition to the others. Price must not stand in the way." David Wright crushed the telegram in his hands, and the first oath he had ever uttered in all his life was ground out between his teeth.
Harley, always in search of new types, always anxious to explore the secrets of new lands, accepted as promptly as if the request had been spontaneous. Although his house was only a few hundred yards away, Mr. Anderson took them there in his two-seated, highly polished carriage, drawn by a pair of seal-brown trotters. "Good horses," he said, as he cracked his whip contentedly over them.
"You are looking charming, dear; that seal-brown velvet fits you exquisitely." "Worth says I am curves, not angles," said Vaura, gaily; "he says he would prefer to fit a grasshopper, a la mode, than many women who pine for his scissors."
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