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Updated: June 20, 2025
"I'm done with the whole bizness, an' I'm mighty glad I heven't paid fer the last year, an' don't intend to now." As Farrington passed out of the dining-room into the store, his clerk, a young man new to the business, was serving a middle-aged woman at the counter. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Sturgis," the former was saying, "but we are entirely out of it just now.
It was the presentment of a stout, good-humoured man of middle-age, whose solemn gaze dwelt on the middle distance in that fixed way which a man achieves only in photographs. "Skinner!" "Exactly," said Mr. Sturgis, taking the photograph from her and putting it back in his pocket. "I recognised him directly he opened the door to me."
Sturgis alternately tended Mary, and wept over the violence of her illness, he listened to her ravings; each sentence of which had its own peculiar meaning and reference, intelligible to his mind, till her words rose to the wild pitch of agony, that no one could alleviate, and he could bear it no longer, and stole, sick and miserable, downstairs, where Ben Sturgis thought it his duty to snore away in an arm-chair instead of his bed, under the idea that he should thus be more ready for active service, such as fetching the doctor to revisit his patient.
"You'd forget me soon," he said. "No, I won't." "Especially when Sam Sturgis comes round to see you." "I don't want to see him. He's a stuck-up boy, and thinks himself too good to associate with common people." "He wanted to have me black his boots," said Ben. "He isn't fit to black yours," said Jennie energetically. "Oh, yes, he is," said Ben, laughing. "That's where you and I disagree."
Glancing that way, Sturgis said, "If I had a little bit of sugar, I believe I'd take a toddy." A colored boy produced a sugar-bowl and the toddy was taken. The conversation ran on a few moments, when, as if it were a wholly new suggestion, the same voice repeated, "If I had a little bit of sugar, I believe I'd take a toddy;" and again the attendant did the honors.
's manner, but I would rather not have him do so before English people. He arranged to send a close carriage for us to come and see him socially this evening. After leaving his house we drove round Hyde Park, and thence to Portland Place, where we left cards for Mrs. Russell Sturgis; thence into Regent's Park, thence home.
"Father," he said, "Cousin Henry has a boy about his own age to wait on him, black his boots, and run errands." "Has he?" asked the major mechanically, not looking up from the daily paper which he was reading. "Yes, sir. He don't pay him much, you know, only five dollars a month and his board, and Henry finds it very convenient." Major Sturgis did not reply.
He exhibited the mole. He was taking no risks. The Count clicked his tongue regretfully. "I am sorry," he said. George didn't offer to console him, "Don't worry," said Sturgis. "He won't escape me. I shall find him." "Do, Mr. Sturgis, do. And quickly. Find swiftly that noble young man." "What?" shouted George.
"Phil," he whispered loudly, "do you think now would be a good time to do it!" "What? Oh yes! Yes, go ahead, to be sure," said Felicia. Kirk galloped forthwith to the melodeon, which Mrs. Sturgis had so far failed to identify as a musical instrument, seated himself before it, and opened it with a bang. He drew forth all the loudest stops the trumpet, the diapason for his paean of welcome.
Concha, after her father left her, sat for a long while in an attitude of such complete repose that Sturgis, watching her miserably from the veranda, remembered the consolations of his sketch book; and he was able to counterfeit the graceful, proud figure, under the wall and roses, before she stirred. Concha had sent her father away deeply puzzled.
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