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The unity of sound of well executed volleys, told us how Sykes's Regulars attacked, whilst marching by the flank, halted at the word, faced to the left with the precision of an ordinary drill, and delivered their fire with murderous exactness.

"Listen, do you hear that melodious bell? That is Sykes's cow-bell. Come, and I'll treat you." Hester followed as Sara lead the way from the front dormitory door out on to the campus. As they passed the end room, the sound of voices in conversation came to them. "Can you let me have some perfume, Erma, and a fine handkerchief? I neglected to put mine in the laundry."

And Liddy, whose dream had always been to do "reg'lar city dress-makin', with helpers an' plates an' furnish the findin's at the shop," and whose lot instead had been to cut and fit "just the durable kind," was blithely at work night and day on Mis' Postmaster Sykes's tobacco-brown net.

"He'd no natural turn for the sea, 'Lisha hadn't; but I might have kept him with me if the land was good for anything." Elisha felt as if lie were in a dream, now that his great adventure was begun. He answered John Sykes's questions mechanically, and his head was a little dull and dazed.

He darted out, bumped down the sounding stairs and, while the doctor was still considering the words of his ultimatum, appeared again at the door, this time decorously on duty. "A call for you, sir," said Bubble primly. "A what?" "A call, sir. Mrs. Sykes wants to know if the new doctor will call 'round first thing in the morning to see Mrs. Sykes's Ann. She dunno, but she thinks it's smallpox."

Just do the best you can, and the professor will leave you alone." "You said it," agreed Tom. "Nothing in the universe talks as loudly as hard work. Let's all show him." The three cadets followed the enlisted spaceman out of the room and headed toward Sykes's quarters. Tom's thoughts were confused. He wasn't sure of his feelings any more.

They all three jumped when Jeff Marshall, Professor Sykes's aide, entered and boomed a cheerful greeting. "Hi, fellas!" "Hiya," muttered Tom. Astro and Roger merely nodded. "Say!" cried Jeff, his usually cheerful face showing concern. "What's the matter with you three guys? You look as though someone told you there isn't any Moon!" "Worse than that," said Roger.

If he can stand Eulaly Sykes's cookin', he must be tough." "Perhaps he will keel over, some day," Phebe suggested. "I should think he would. But then, they say folks like him eat all sorts of things at night suppers, so I suppose he is used to it." She rocked in silence, for a moment; then she went on, "What do you find to do with yourself, now you're home again?

"This. Listen! Oh, where is the thing? Here it is, in the Bannock correspondence of the Times. Listen! 'Mr. G. Bartlett, the musician who is sojourning at Mr. Jas. Sykes's farm, sustained a bad fall from his bicycle on Bannock Hill, last Tuesday. His injuries are serious, including a cut on his temple and a compound fracture of the right arm. Dr.

Or, "Doctor June's invited to Mis' Sykes's for tea. Shall I give him to you there?" The telephone is modern enough. But in our use of it is there not a flavour as of an Elder Time, to be caught by Them of Many Years from Now? And already we may catch this flavour, as our Britain great-great-lady grandmothers, and more, may have been conscious of the old fashion of sitting in bowers.