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Updated: May 17, 2025
To ask the consent of the officer-of the-day or the connivance of the officer-of-the-guard was to invite them to court arrest and trial on their own account. He couldn't do that even to oblige a brother Delt. If only Ned Craven were officer-of-the-guard something might be done he was a college man, too, and though not a "Delt," but rather of a rival set, he "would understand" and possibly help.
She had promised herself eagerly that the very day when the heathen were gone she would plant some ivies. She was pretending vehemently that the heathen were gone and that she didn't have to be a "by-the-day" yet before night she was exclaiming passionately, "I am proud, proud, proud I was a by- the-day " The new place was not a hard one.
'Here, he could not but reflect, 'here is another link in the Judicial Error. 'And ye look dreidful bad the-day, sir, I must say that, he continued. 'There's nothing like a dram for ye if ye'll take my advice of it; and bein' as it's Christmas, I'm no' saying, he added, with a fatherly smile, 'but what I would join ye mysel'. John had listened with a sick heart.
Some one ought to pull her right out of Uncle Peter's house! She is worse than a weed! She ought to have to be a by- the-day! And sit in a windy hall and sew and sew. And then some one ought to bring her a tray, with messy napkins and just two pieces of dry lamb and a sad tomato and all the while that she was eating it somebody ought to put Uncle Peter's tray on the table beside her!
Who but Felicia could have shaken beauty from that first unlovely "by- the-day"? Seamstress after seamstress had come and gone in that impossibly selfish household, the meek ones enduring it until they could endure no more, the proud ones hurrying angrily away; competent or incompetent, not one of them had ever been able to please her exacting employer, yet Felicia, mercifully unaware of the heart aches she would endure within, walked staunchly through the iron gates, with "440 Linton Avenue" boldly wrought in filagree upon their stern panels.
You're the same Barnum that we knew, You're good for years, still fit for labor, Be as of old, be bold and true, Honest as man, as friend, as neighbor. At about this period, the following poem was published in a Pottsville, Pa., paper, and copied by many journals of the-day: A HEALTH TO BARNUM.
"Here," he could not but reflect, "here is another link in the Judicial Error." "And ye look dreidful bad the-day, sir, I must say that," he continued. "There's nothing like a dram for ye if ye'll take my advice of it; and bein' as it's Christmas, I'm no' saying," he added, with a fatherly smile, "but what I would join ye mysel'." John had listened with a sick heart.
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