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Updated: June 20, 2025
Then the whistle screamed, the train gave a jerk and proceeded on its way, and Uncle John, his nieces and their maid, found themselves confronting a solitary man in shirtsleeves, who yawned languidly, thrust his hands in his pockets and stared at the strangers unmoved. It was six o'clock. The July sun was set in a clear sky, but the air was cool and pleasant.
When he entered, he found Blake in his shirtsleeves, humped over a small desk. He was intently absorbed in comparing the figures of two field books and in making little pencil diagrams. "Hello, old man. What's the good word?" sang out his lordship. Blake nodded absently, and went on with his last diagram.
With endless pain and trouble I reached a thicket, and was feebly working on a branch with my pen-knife, when the sound of a heavy footstep surprised me. A brown harvest-hand, in straw hat and shirtsleeves, presently appeared. He grinned when he saw me, and the thick snub of his nose would have seemed like a sneer at any other time. "Are you the gentleman that got hurt?" he asked.
He seemed to have caught, suddenly, one of his bad colds and to be giving it to Mr. Parsons. They were both in their shirtsleeves, and Anthony carried something in his arms which he had covered with his coat. The borzoi stood in front of them. His face had a look of foolish ecstasy. He stared at Mr. Parsons, and as he stared he panted.
I'll be back in a minute," ducked out into the hall and signaled a passing messenger, then stepped quickly back into the writing room and said, "I've sent for Bronson Vandeman." He settled deeper in his chair with, "I'll stay and see it out. If you get anything from Vandeman, I miss my guess." Upon our few moments of strained waiting, Vandeman breezed in, full of apologies for his shirtsleeves.
Concepcion Vara, coatless, as he loved to work, his white shirtsleeves fluttering as his arm swung, had now joined the troopers, and was fighting by Conyngham's side. Estella and Julia were out on the balcony now, leaning over and forgetting all but the breathless interest of battle. Concha stood beside them, muttering and cursing like any soldier.
It was stiflingly hot down here, though it had been cool and fresh on the high ground above, and the young lady, who had not often visited the purlieus of the mill, felt as though she could scarcely breathe, and did not wonder that men sat at the open windows in their shirtsleeves, and that tired-looking women seemed gasping for air.
"Is that you, judge? Well sir, I'm glad to see you! Come right in; take a seat and sit down and rest yourself." The speaker showed himself in the arched opening of the vine barrier an old man not quite so old, perhaps, as the judge. He was in his shirtsleeves. There was a patch upon one of the sleeves.
Tom Gaunt, not long in from work, was sitting in his shirtsleeves, reading the paper a short, thick-set man with small eyes, round, ruddy cheeks, and humorous lips indifferently concealed by a ragged moustache. Even in repose there was about him something talkative and disputatious. He was clearly the kind of man whose eyes and wit would sparkle above a pewter pot.
It was a warm day, and the men were as a matter of course in their shirtsleeves, except Christian, who had always a nervous fear of parting with a scrap of his clothing when in anybody's house but his own.
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