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Updated: May 27, 2025
By her side was a long cane chair, in which lay a white silk wrap and a bit of needlework, tumbled together as the Countess had left them when she went in to receive her visitors. Miss Skeat rose as the party approached. The Countess introduced the two men, who bowed low, and they all sat down, Mr. Barker on the bench by the ancient virgin, and Claudius on the grass at Margaret's feet.
Then Barker called and was admitted, Miss Skeat being present, and his face expressed a whole volume of apology, while he talked briskly of current topics; and so he gradually regained the footing he had lost.
Besant went steadily through his list of questions to the end, revised his answers, and got his paper ready for delivery, but Skeat worked on to the very last moment. An evening or two later, as they were going into Hall, Calverley pinned up his report on the board at the door just like one of the usual University reports, and there was read the result: Besant . . . 1st Prize
My favorite literary dissipation is to read the works of that distinguished statistician at Washington, Mr. O. P. Austin, the poet-laureate of industrial America, or the toilsome and exciting verbal journeys of the Rev. Mr. Skeat. The classic humorists do not compare with them, in my humble opinion, as sources of fantastic surprises.
Barker, with his patent-leather shoes and his elaborate travelling apparatus, leading a band of black-browed ruffians to desperate deeds of daring and blood, was novel enough to be exhilarating; and they laughed loudly. They did not understand Mr. Barker; but perhaps Miss Skeat, who liked him with an old-maidenly liking, had some instinct notion that the gentle American could be dangerous. "Mr.
That this carved marble sarcophagus was of Roman workmanship there seems no room to doubt, and Professor Skeat regards it as clear that this ruined town, with its walls and its Roman remains, was the same place as the Caer-grant mentioned by the historian, Nennius.
He looks like a Scandinavian hero. You know I was sure I should meet him again that day in Heidelberg." "I suppose he really is very good-looking," assented Miss Skeat. "Shall we have them to dinner some day? I think we might; very quietly, you know." "I would certainly advise it, dear Countess. You really ought to begin and see people in some way besides allowing them to call on you.
"Keep your eye peeled there, will you?" the Duke shouted away to the men at the wheel; whereat they grinned, and luffed a little, just enough to let the lady get across. "Steady!" bawled the Duke again when Miss Skeat was made fast; and the men at the wheel held her off once more, so that the spray flew up in a cloudy sheet. Claudius was relieved.
"New York has it," said the Duke, who counted, "and I am glad, on the whole, for it is Sturleson's advice." Barker had voted for New York, and he wondered who the two could have been who wanted to go to Bermuda. Probably Miss Skeat and Lady Victoria. Had the Countess suspected that those two would choose the longer journey and out-vote her, if the decision were left to the ladies?
At last she opened the telegram and uttered an exclamation of surprise. "What in the world does it mean?" she cried, and gave it to Miss Skeat, who held it close to the firelight. The message was from Lord Fitzdoggin, Her British Majesty's Ambassador at St.
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