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Twig's smile left no doubt of her sincerity. "You and Toby will be havin' rare good times together." "That we will, now!" broke in Toby quite excited at the prospect. Mr. Henry Wise, Mr. Bruce Norton's secretary, was enjoying himself.
Now note agin that the trail's spread here, and that here and thar a twig's snapped on the bushes along thar way; which the red-skins have done a purpose to make thar course conspicuous, to draw thar pursuers on arter 'em, prehaps for an ambush, prehaps to keep them from looking arter the others." "In this perplexity what are we to do?" inquired young Millbanks.
Let the light fall gently, and the clouds show an inner vest of the first green leaf. Let the sparrow perch on the twig and shake the raindrop hanging to the twig's elbow.... Why look up? Was it a sound, a thought? Oh, heavens! Back again to the thing you did, the plate glass with the violet loops? But Hilda will come. Ignominies, humiliations, oh! Close the breach.
Beauty! Probably these cold shores will never again shelter beauty like Sarah Twig's. On seeing the King she curtsied low. He bowed with the stately elegance for which he was famed. "Your name?" he asked. The glorious vision veiled her eyes. "I have no name, sire now." With these words, spoken from a heart surcharged with bitterest sorrow, the poor woman swooned away.
Twig and Violet saw them coming, and were at the beach to meet them, and Mrs. Twig actually shed tears of joy. "Snug and tight as ever!" announced Skipper Zeb, as the prow touched the shore. "We gets she all fixed up, Mother. I'm thinkin' you knows more about boats than I does." "I'm so glad!" and Mrs. Twig's round face was wreathed in smiles while glad tears glistened in her eyes.
Charge! echoed the bugles; a wailing storm, high among the tree tops, passed over them as they entered the dry woods on a run; branches crashed earthward, twig's and limbs crackled down in whirling confusion. But there was nothing in the woods except smoke and the streaming storm shrilling overhead, raining down on them leaves and boughs and splintered sticks.
You have reduced your income, that is clear; for an English gentleman does not stay years and years abroad unless he has out run the constable; and I feel sure gambling has done it. You had the fever from a boy. Bullington Green! 'As the twig's bent the tree's inclined. Come, come, make a stand. We are friends. Let us help one another against our besetting foibles.
But Charley and the Twigs, old and young, found the stewed bear's meat, with Mrs. Twig's light, fluffy dumplings and the good bread and molasses, both satisfying and appetizing; and when Charley declined a third helping, urged upon him by Skipper Zeb, he declared that he was as full as though he had eaten a Christmas dinner.
"'Well, you didn't win, did you? says Gallager. "'Um, um, says Sam, lookin' at th' twig. "'Then th' twig's no good, is it? asks Gallager, lookin' Sam firmly in th' eye, an' Sam returnin' th' look. "'NO! says Sam, an' he throws th' twig away." The cowpunchers did not believe this story. They did not think that an Indian can be cured of his medicine. But I know it is true, for I knew the Indian.
Everything works fine for us, and here we be, snug as a bear in his den, eatin' good vittles, even if we be a bit wet." "I can't help worryin' about the boat," insisted Mrs. Twig. "I'm 'tis feelin' bad for you not havin' she." "Don't feel bad about un, Mother," and there was a tenderness in Skipper Twig's voice that Charley noted. "'Twere the Lard's doin's." When the meal was finished Mrs.
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