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Updated: May 17, 2025
Patty inquired with mild curiosity. "Neither," said Priscilla; "it's a collar-bone." "Oh," murmured Patty. "What is it?" demanded Georgie the curious. "Read it out loud." "NEW HAVEN, November 29. "Broke collar-bone playing foot-ball. Honest Injun. Terribly sorry. Better luck next time." "There will not," observed Patty, "be a next time." The Impressionable Mr. Todhunter
"I hope so," said Francesca philosophically, as she folded her work; "but sometimes these people who go mooning about, and looking through the waves of Time, tumble in and are drowned." 'O wind, O mighty, melancholy wind, Blow through me, blow! Thou blowest forgotten things into my mind From long ago. John Todhunter.
Backed by his tailor and his hairdresser, he presented no such bad figure at the altar, and none would have thought that he was an ancient admirer of his bride's mama, as certainly none knew he had lately proposed for Mrs. Doria before there was any question of her daughter. These things were secrets; and the elastic and happy appearance of Mr. John Todhunter did not betray them at the altar.
"Rabbits," replied Father Brown promptly. "What?" cried Dr Hood. "Rabbits, ribbons, sweetmeats, goldfish, rolls of coloured paper," said the reverend gentleman with rapidity. "Didn't you see it all when you found out the faked ropes? It's just the same with the sword. Mr Todhunter hasn't got a scratch on him, as you say; but he's got a scratch in him, if you follow me."
You are well preserved younger than most of the young men of our day. You are eminently domestic, a good son, and will be a good husband and good father. Some one you must marry. What do you think of Clare for a wife for you?" At first John Todhunter thought it would be very much like his marrying a baby. However, he listened to it, and that was enough for Mrs. Doria.
John Todhunter: quite a glowing account of John's behaviour: but on Richard's desiring to know the words Clare had written, Mrs. Doria objected to be explicit, and shot into worldly gossip. "Clare seldom glows," said Richard. "No, I mean for her," his aunt remarked. "Don't look like your father, child." "I should like to have seen the letter," said Richard. Mrs. Doria did not propose to show it.
Todhunter dashed down his window with violence, and the man in the high hat melted into the sea-fog again. You see, therefore, how this sealed door of Todhunter's is treated as the gate of all the fancies and monstrosities of the 'Thousand and One Nights'. And yet there is the little fellow in his respectable black jacket, as punctual and innocent as a parlour clock.
She spoke so kindly of John, and laid so much stress on the ingrained obedience and passive disposition of her daughter, that Mrs. Todhunter was led to admit she did think it almost time John should be seeking a mate, and that he all things considered would hardly find a fitter one.
"But I think I'm Tod, and my brother is Tad. Of course our Sunday names are Todhunter and Tadema, but Tod and Tad are much better for every day use." Then some girls came; Clara Ferris was among the first; and then Grace and Ethel Rawlins, and Maisie May. Dotty took a quick liking to the last named, for she was a bright, pretty girl who seemed eager to be friends.
Father Brown, who had been looking dully at the carpet, lifted his round face and said: "What do you mean?" The man of science had picked up the peculiar dagger-sword from the carpet and was examining it intently as he answered: "Because you find Mr Todhunter tied up," he said, "you all jump to the conclusion that Mr Glass had tied him up; and then, I suppose, escaped.
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