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Updated: June 28, 2025
"Only came to say a word or two, Acton, about Thursday's match." "A very good one," he remarked, with what Corker calls "detached interest." "Aspinall's accident was more than unfortunate." "The fact is," said Bourne, bluntly, "neither Carr nor I believe it was an accident." "No? What was it, then? Every one else thought it was, though." "We know better.
"You will find a full report of Professor Hanky's sermon, and of the speeches at last night's banquet. You see they pass over your little interruption with hardly a word, but I dare say they will have made up their minds about it all by Thursday's issue."
"I do not know if you have got all my letters, fully explaining to you in what way the want of a single letter, on two occasions, did so much mischief made such havoc in our peace. I think my last Thursday's letter entered on it. We are grateful for many letters that have come.
But the thing stuck in my memory, and together with the fact that I was a Thursday's bairn, and so, according to the old rhyme, "had far to go," convinced me long ere I had come to man's estate that wanderings and surprises would be my portion. It is in the rain that this tale begins.
For my couch the boatswain lent me his locker, and for a pillow a bag of something that felt like rope ends, and for three successive mornings I was wakened with: "Sorry to disturb you, little miss, but I must get to my locker." Three days of heat, glare, hubbub, and anxious suspense dragged away, and Thursday's gorgeous sunset brought a change.
Bateson; "it gives 'em something to think about between Sunday's sermon and Thursday's baking; and if folks have nothing to think about, they think about mischief." "That's true, especially if they happen to be men." "Why do men think about mischief more than women do?" asked Elisabeth, who always felt hankerings after the why and wherefore of things.
If you're going to be here in town any time why'n't you call up there some evening before six you have to leave 'em know and get one of Pardee's dinners? Thursday's chicken. And when I say chicken I mean Well, just try it, that's all.... And for God's sake don't make a mistake and tip Maxine."
Climbing to the Manchesters' post for the view, I could see three Boer trains waiting at Modder's Spruit station, about six miles up the Newcastle line. Did they bring reinforcements, or were they waiting to take "Long Tom" home by return ticket? We shall know to-morrow. Over the valley where we repulsed Thursday's attack, the vultures flew as thick as swifts upon the Severn at twilight.
Furneaux, a creature oddly constituted either of all nerves or of no nerves, disregarded the skull. He had eyes only for the few words typed on a single sheet of note-paper. They ran: "James Creighton Forbes: If you are willing to come to terms, announce the fact by advertisement in Thursday's Times. Address your reply to Y. M., and sign it 'J. C. F. Yield, and you will hear further.
Bays had gone to Indianapolis with Williams, and returned on Thursday's coach, having failed to raise the three thousand dollars. At the supper table, on the evening of his return, Tom offered a suggestion. "I'll tell you where you can get most of the money," he said. "Dic has twenty-six hundred dollars in Billy Little's box. He'll loan it to you." "That's just the thing," cried Mrs.
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