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Updated: May 8, 2025
In 1886 it had risen to five hundred dollars an acre, as attested by its sale to a Mr. John L. Slosson at that time. In 1889, three years later, it had been sold to Mr. Mortimer for one thousand per acre, precisely the figure at which this tract was now offered. It could be parceled out into lots fifty by one hundred feet at five hundred dollars per lot. Was there any profit in that?
They imagined the gentleman named Slosson would find the operation excessively disagreeable; and that Yancy should be recuperating for so unique an enterprise invested him with a romantic interest. Henry squirmed closer to the recumbent figure on the bed. "Me and Kep would like mighty well to know how you-all are goin' to strip the hide offen to that gentleman's back," he observed.
No one would believe that he, a planter, had a hand in that, and for a brief instant he considered signaling Bess to return. Slosson must be told of Murrell's arrest; but he was sick with apprehension, some trap might have been prepared for him, he could not know; and the impulse to act forsook him. He smote his hands together in a hopeless, beaten gesture.
He never raised his voice, he never appeared to see plain women; such girls as accepted his attentions were sure of advancement, but paid for it in other ways. On Monday evening Mr. Slosson, the press-agent, thrust his head through the dressing-room door and inquired: "May I come in?" "You are in." "I came to see Lorelei.
Pope's thin lip curled, and he shook his head. "I write theatrical stuff," he said, shortly, "because I have to, not because I like to. I try to keep it reasonably clean." Slosson was instantly apologetic. "Oh, I don't mean there's anything wrong about this affair.
To one not accustomed to war it might seem strange, but thirty seconds after Hal had wrapped himself in his blanket he was deep in dreamless slumber. He slept until the sun was fairly high. Then Prescott awoke him. "Kelly Slosson are they back, sir?" were Hal's first words, as he threw aside his blanket. "Back nearly three hours ago, Sergeant," smiled the officer. "It's half-past eight.
And now, there's the matter of obstetrical outfits. Three grades, packed ready for shipment, practical, simple, and complete. Our drug section has the separate articles, but we ought to " "Oh, lord!" groaned Slosson, and slumped disgustedly in his seat. But Fenger got up, came over to Fanny, and put a hand on her shoulder for a moment. He looked down at her. "I knew you'd do it."
"You have that look. Captain, will you join us?" asked Yancy. Murrell shook his head, but he made a significant gesture to Slosson as Yancy drained his glass. "Have a drink with me!" cried Slosson, giving way to drunken laughter. "Don't you reckon you'll spite yo' appetite fo' breakfast, neighbor?" suggested Yancy. "Do you mean you won't drink with me?" roared Slosson.
Thus it happened that as Murrell and Slosson were dragging Yancy down the lane, Cavendish was just rounding a bend in the Elk, a quarter of a mile distant. Leaning loosely against the long handle of his sweep, he was watching the lane of bright water that ran between the black shadows cast by the trees on either bank.
In eight cases out of ten their letters will tell us whether it's a pink or blue baby. And when they get our package, and take out that pink or blue box, they'll be as pleased as if we'd made them a present. It's the personal note " "Personal slop!" growled Slosson. "It isn't business. It's sentimental slush!"
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