United States or Jordan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Oakhurst, whose professional habits had enabled him to live on the smallest possible amount of sleep, in dividing the watch with Tom Simson somehow managed to take upon himself the greater part of that duty. He excused himself to the Innocent by saying that he had "often been a week without sleep." "Doing what?" asked Tom.
The Doctor proceeded to other arrangements; and, for the satisfaction of those readers who may love minute information, we record, that Luckie Simson, the first in the race, carried as a prize the situation of sick-nurse beside the delicate patient; that Peg Thomson was permitted the privilege of recommending her good-daughter, Bet Jamieson, to be wet-nurse; and an oe, or grandchild, of Luckie Jaup was hired to assist in the increased drudgery of the family; the Doctor thus, like a practised minister, dividing among his trusty adherents such good things as fortune placed at his disposal.
Simson was the fortunate drawer of Roaring Tommy. Mills got the second favourite, and Felgate for whom, in his absence, Mills drew got another outsider called Polo. Dig scarcely liked to tell Arthur of his bad luck, but his chum extracted the secret from him. "I'm jolly glad!" said Arthur sententiously; "the worst thing that could happen to you would be to win. I'm glad you'll have a good lesson."
It was arranged that I was to take charge of the scouts and Simson to take charge of the other train, and Beckwith would go on and overtake the other train, and the train that reached the mouth of Long Canyon where it empties into Truckey river first must wait for the other train.
He dropped a warning to the Duchess and Mother Shipton, who of course knew the facts of their associate's defection. "They'll find out the truth about us all when they find out anything," he added, significantly, "and there's no good frightening them now." Tom Simson not only put all his worldly store at the disposal of Mr. Oakhurst, but seemed to enjoy the prospect of their enforced seclusion.
He looked a little doubtful at Joan. Mary introduced them. His name was Julius Simson. He shook hands as if under protest. "As friends of Mary Stopperton," he said, "we meet on neutral ground. But in all matters of moment I expect we are as far asunder as the poles. I stand for the People." "We ought to be comrades," answered Joan, with a smile. "I, too, am trying to help the People."
The illusion was so strong, that I never paused till I felt my forehead graze against the wall and my hands clutch the ground, for there was nobody there to save from falling, as in my foolishness I thought. Simson held out his hand to me to help me up. He was trembling and cold, his lower lip hanging, his speech almost inarticulate. "It's gone," he said, stammering, "it's gone!"
That ass Simson, when he wrote out the tickets, wrote Blazer twice over instead of Blazer and Catterwaul. They were both such regular outsiders, it didn't seem worth correcting it at the time. I'm awfully sorry, you know, but your's let's see," said he, taking the cadaverous baronet's ticket and looking at it, "yours has got one of the corners torn off yes, that's it. Yours should be Catterwaul."
Tip us one of your low A's, and we'll sky it from our pew. Who's there?" It was Simson, also infected with the fever, although with him, being of the weak-minded order, it took the form of a craze for "sport" generally. For Simson, as we have mentioned, once tipped a ball to leg for two, and consequently was entitled to be regarded as an authority on every subject pertaining to the turf generally.
In the middle of the street, Gossip Simson is hurrying along, with the necessaries in her lap, to treat her "cusin," Christy Lowrie, with a bit and a drop; and ever and anon she says, "a guid e'en" to this one, and "a guid e'en" to that; and, between the parties, her head is ever thrown back, as if she were counting the stars; and, every time the act is repeated, the bottle undergoes a perceptible diminution of its contents, till, by the time she reaches her "luving cusin's" door, it is empty; and honest John Simson, at her return, greets her with "My feth, Jenny, ye've been at mony a hoose in Christ's Kirk this nicht, if ane may judge by yer bottle."
Word Of The Day