United States or Sint Maarten ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Good-evenin', mees," he said in his soft, leisurely voice; "good-evenin', señor." When the last ruffle of Miss Starkweather's green "polonay" had disappeared around the corner of the adobe house, the señora drifted slowly across the dooryard in her voluminous pink drapery, and sat down beside her son. There was a thin stratum of curiosity away down in her Latin soul.
A stately old house with a huge end chimney of red brick stands with dignity well back from the road; round about lie pleasant lawns that once were cornfields: and there are drives and walks and exotic shrubs. At first, loving my own hills so well, I was puzzled to understand why I should also enjoy Starkweather's groomed surroundings.
Mix's salary was comforting, his expense accounts were paid as soon as vouchers were submitted, he was steadily advancing in Miss Starkweather's good books, and he considered himself to be a very clever man indeed.
I keep thinking I've got the better of it, but along will come a beautiful temptation and down I go and come out as remorseful as I was that afternoon on the way home from Mary Starkweather's. A week or two later I happened to meet Richard Starkweather on the street in Hempfield. He was on his way home. "Yes," he said, "we're in the old house again until spring, anyway.
"I've got my hands in the dough," called her daughter hilariously, from the pantry; "Mr. Lowe'll have to set on his thumb till I get these biscuits in the pan." Parker's head swam. The domestic familiarity of it all filled him with ecstasy. He got himself a chair, and inquired solicitously concerning Mrs. Starkweather's health.
It's my feeling that you're dodging the law by sliding in the back door. It's my official duty to look into it. Only if we do have to put a stop to it, I want you to realize that I sympathize with any personal loss you may have to suffer. Personally, I'm grieved to have to take this stand against John Starkweather's nephew. You understand that, don't you?" Henry nodded assent. "Why, certainly.
Starkweather's will, he had sensed, intuitively, that it contained a stick of dynamite for Henry. Mr. Archer, who had known Henry since the Fauntleroy days, greeted him with the proper mixture of repression and cordiality. "But I'm afraid," owned Mr. Archer, "I'm afraid you're going to be a little disappointed." Henry shook his head. "Then you've sized me up all wrong," he said, much subdued.
But in these days there isn't a Councillor I know'd put a motion to repeal it, or amend it. Probition's scared 'em. They don't know what the people want, so they're laying mighty low.... Same time, this League's getting pretty strong. Mix, and John Starkweather's sister, and ex-Senator Kaplan, Richards of the First National, Dr.
And to Henry's dismay, and to the Mayor's chagrin, and to Miss Mirabelle Starkweather's exceeding complacence, nothing happened at all. The public petition, which had been advertised as "monstrous," caught hardly five hundred names, and two thirds of them were Mr. A. Mutt, Mr. O. Howe Wise, Mr. O. U. Kidd, and similar patronymics, scribbled by giggling small boys.
Word Of The Day