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Dick Livingstone's machine was at the curb before the Wheeler house, and in the living-room he found Walter Wheeler, pacing the floor. Mr. Wheeler glanced at him and looked away. "Anybody sick?" Leslie asked, his feeling of apprehension growing. "Nina is having hysterics upstairs," Mr. Wheeler said, and continued his pacing. "Nina! Hysterics?" "That's what I said," replied Mr.
Peg cleared out, and she went across his pasture, muttering to herself and throwing her arms round. And next day his very best cow took sick and died. How do you account for that?" "It might have happened anyhow," said the Story Girl somewhat less assuredly, though. "It might. But I'd just as soon Peg Bowen didn't look at MY cows," said Peter. "As if you had any cows!" giggled Felicity.
Brother John, exasperated by the superhuman delays, fell sick of a fever at Burgos, and was sent, on his recovery, to the court at Valladolid to be made ill again by the same cause, and still there came no sound from the Government of Spain. At last the silence was broken. Something that was called the voice of the king reached the ears of the archduke.
Taylor sat taking her turn, suddenly he asked had he been sick long, and looked at her with a quieted eye. The wandering seemed to drop from him at a stroke, leaving him altogether himself. He lay very feeble, and inquired once or twice of his state and how he came here; nor was anything left in his memory of even coming to the spring where he had been found.
Before him lay a little book, which he looked at through a mist of tears. Roundjacket touched him on the shoulder, with a glance of wonder, and said: "You are sick, sir! Mr. Rushton, sir! there is somebody to see you." In truth, the honest fellow could scarcely stammer out these broken words; and when Mr.
In an incredibly short time the untasted meal was paid for, a hansom summoned, and he was driving once more through the streets by Cornelia's side, while she mopped her eyes with a minute pocket-handkerchief. "You haven't lived with her for days at a time. ... You haven't thought of her as a friend. ... You haven't had her nurse you, when you were sick!..."
"Tresler, did you say?" asked a girl's voice from the kitchen doorway. "Wounded?" There was a world of fear in the questions, which were scarcely above a whisper. Arizona was lifting Tresler down into Joe's arms. "I 'lows I didn't know you wus ther', missie," he replied, without turning from his task. "Careful, Joe; easy easy now. He's dreadful sick, I guess. Yes, missie, it's him.
He was glad to see his mother take Sara's hand, and, as she kissed her tenderly, exact a promise that she would write occasionally. But when the others crowded around, each eager for the last word, he turned away and busied himself with his tiller-rope, sick at heart.
Why, now we've made a start, we must capture some more millionaires, and we'll have a vessel with every fleet, and no sick men lying on grimy floors. By the way, what a capital association that would be The Royal Society for the Capture of Millionaires. President and Organizing Director, Marion Dearsley; Treasurer, Lena Ranken; General Agent for Great Britain and the Colonies, Lewis Ferrier!
They crowded up to his bunk and smoothed out his blankets and spoke to him more gently than I should have believed possible. So angry were they at the brutality of the two officers, that the coldest and hardest of them all gave the sick man a muttered word of sympathy or an awkward helping hand.
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