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Updated: May 17, 2025
It was the loose-knitted figure of young Tamarack Spicer. "In course," Spicer was saying, "we don't 'low Samson shot Jesse Purvy, but them Hollmans'll 'spicion him, an' I heered just now, thet them dawgs was trackin' straight up hyar from the mouth of Misery. They'll git hyar against sundown." Samson leaped violently forward.
Falconbridge, to sing very finely by the eare only, but a fine way of singing, and if I come ever to lacke a girle again I shall think of getting her. Thence to the towne, and there Spicer, Woodruffe, and W. Bowyer and I dined together and a friend of Spicer's; and a good dinner I had for them. Falconbrige dined somewhere else, by appointment.
"Every apartment in the Lodge is filled at present, and unless someone should leave, I do not see how we can hope to have the pleasure of Miss Kendall's being with us." Mrs. Spicer, always practical and to the point, demanded if there were any prospect of a removal. Miss Ardsley feared not, since the Lodge was so deservedly popular.
Whatever conclusion was reached as to the artist's future, he was, until the verdict came in, a visitor, and, unless liquor inflamed some reckless trouble-hunter, that fact would not be forgotten. Possibly, it was as well that Tamarack Spicer had not arrived. Lescott himself realized the situation in part, as he stood at the door of the house watching the scene inside.
"A man who died in the hospital, who went by the name of Spicer, but whose real name was Walter James; he saw the glass in my hand, recognised it, and on his death-bed revealed all connected with it; but he never knew that the party was still alive when he did so." "If Walter James confessed all to you on his death-bed, Mr Saunders, it is certain that you can answer me one question.
Juniper scratched his head and looked doubtful, and one or two of the other silent gentlemen scratched their heads. Messrs. Evans & Crooke scratched his head. "It's a matter on which I would not like to give an opinion one way or the other," said Tyrrwhit. "No more wouldn't I," said Spicer. "Let every man speak as he finds," continued Hart. "That's my belief.
Coventry being gone forth I went to Westminster Hall, where I staid reading at Mrs. Mitchell's shop, and sent for half a pint of sack for her. Here she told me what I heard not of before, the strange burning of Mr. How this should come to pass, God knows, but a most strange thing it is! Hither came Jack Spicer to me, and I took him to the Swan, where Mr.
Spicer had breakfasted long before, and so she met the girl with a sharp rebuke for keeping late hours. "Pray," she inquired mockingly, "is it the fashion in the country you came from for servants to be abed until ten o'clock in the morning?"
"The idea of anybody calling Kate Stimson 'Kitty'! The deacon will talk that way to 'most any woman, but if she let him say it to her more than once, she must be getting mighty anxious, I think." "Oh," Sister Candish hastened to explain, "Sister Clark didn't say she had heard him say it twice." "Well, I don't think she heard him say it once," Sister Spicer asserted with confidence.
She'd been at it for an hour, and was as black as a gin, they said. She only said when they'd turned the fire: 'Thenk yer! Wait an' I'll make some tea. After tea the first Sunday she came to see us, Mary asked 'Don't you feel lonely, Mrs Spicer, when your husband goes away? 'Well no, Mrs Wilson, she said in the groping sort of voice. 'I uster, once.
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