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Updated: June 18, 2025
"What's the matter there?" called Dorothy, in a very drowsy voice, from her window at the other end of the roof. "What are you boys after?" called Uncle William, from a middle window. "Anything the matter?" asked Aunt Sarah, anxiously, from the spare room. "Got a burgulor?" shrieked Freddie, from the nursery. "Do you want any help?" offered Susan, her head out of the top-floor window.
It was a top-floor rear, where a hip-roof gave his back wall the rake of a Baltimore buckeye, and a dismantled electric call-bell bore ignominious testimony to the fact that his skyey abode had once been a servant's quarters. But the room was quiet, and, what counted more, it was cheap. The thought of ever being put out of it terrified the frugal-minded Trotter.
On the iron viaduct that bestrides that deceptively named thoroughfare heavy trains thundered at intervals, and it was only after Morris had knocked repeatedly at the door of a top-floor apartment that its inmates heard the summons above the roar of the traffic without. "Well, Mrs. Schenkmann," Minnie cried cheerfully, "how's the baby to-night?" "Schenkmann?" Morris murmured; "Schenkmann?
A young Toronto poet who had learned the trick of buttering an envelope and in it neatly shirring an egg over a gas jet was first reminded that he was four weeks behind in his rent and then sadly yet firmly ejected from the top-floor skylight room. So Trotter, once back in his own quarters, moved about with a caution not untouched with apprehension. Mrs.
There were about forty men and eight ladies present besides Aunt Maggie and I. You'd never have known the third richest woman in the world. She had on a new black silk dress with so much passementerie on it that it sounded exactly like a hailstorm I heard once when I was staying all night with a girl that lived in a top-floor studio. "And my dress! say, Man, I can't waste the words on you.
Meanwhile the iron gearing connected with the stones had been taken down inside; then the stones had followed, being lowered through the floors into the basement, and from thence carefully rolled, to be leaned up against the wall. "Hah!" said Uncle Richard, "at the end of a week," as he went up to the top-floor of the mill with his nephew. "Is it only a week, uncle?" said Tom.
Name o' Richardson, bookbinder, on the door, but that's bin there five or six year now, and it ain't the same tenant. Richardson's dead, an' this one don't bind no books as I can see. I don't even remember seein' him very often. Tallish, darkish sort o' gent he is, and don't seem to have many visitors. Well, then there's the top-floor but I s'pose it's the same tenant.
The women in the streets have the faces of playing cards; the outlines accurately filled in with pink or yellow, and the line drawn tightly round them. Then, at a top-floor window, leaning out, looking down, you see beauty itself; or in the corner of an omnibus; or squatted in a ditch beauty glowing, suddenly expressive, withdrawn the moment after.
It is the end that smells of tar, the domain of the harbourmasters, where the sailor finds a 'home, not too sweet, and where the wild sea is tamed in a maze of granite squares and basins; the end where the riggings and buildings rise side by side, and a clerk might swing himself out upon the yards from his top-floor desk.
The Servants' Hall had been given that name in the catalogue of the fashionable agents who let the home and it was as cramped and grimy as the two top-floor nurseries. The next afternoon Robert Gareth-Lawless staggered into his wife's drawing-room and dropped on to a sofa staring at her and breathing hard. "Feather!" he gasped. "Don't know what's up with me. I believe I'm awfully ill!
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