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Updated: May 16, 2025
She looked up at him with a roguish laugh. He smiled and laid his finger caressingly on the dimpled chin. "Dear little bird!" he said tenderly; "but when this dimple captivates the heart of some one, Vad, you will fly away and leave the poor father in the empty nest." Her color glowed softly through the olive skin. She threw her arms around his neck and laid her face against his breast.
The author was a citizen of Antwerp, who kept a daily journal of the events as they occurred at Harlem. It is a dry, curt register of horrors, jotted down without passion or comment. Compare Bor, vi. 422, 423; Meteren, iv. 79; Mendoza, viii. 174, 175; Wagenaer, vad.
"Some day, perhaps, little Vad. But do not indulge in the besetting sin of your sex, or, like the mother of the race, you may find your apple choke you in the chewing." Evadne shook her finger at him. "Naughty one! As if you were not three times as curious as I! And when it comes to waiting, you should have named me Patience, sir!"
"Dat wond hinder me from drying to zaave you," replied his mother, affectionately. "I must see vad is de madder vid you, or I cannod cure you." "I am past your doctoring, mother," groaned Blaize. "Leave me alone, I say. You hurt me shockingly!" "Poor child!" cried Josyna, soothingly, "I'll be as dender as possible. I'll nod give you de leasd pain nod de leasd bid."
"Kid, I wish you'd tell me how you done it. It worked quick, anyhow." "And thorough," grinned Jack. "I was thinking some of falling in love with you myself, Vad. Soon as some of the shine wore off, and you got so you acted like a real person."
"If you please, Mother Hart, who was that Christmas angel I squashed?" "Vad? Was Vad in on it, mum? I never saw her." Wally straightened up with a fresh chunk of cake in his hand. "Was she scared?" "Yes," his mother admitted reluctantly, "I guess she was, all right. First the squaws and, poor girl, I made her shake hands all round and then Grant here, acting like a wild hyena "
The author was a citizen of Antwerp, who kept a daily journal of the events as they occurred at Harlem. It is a dry, curt register of horrors, jotted down without passion or comment. Compare Bor, vi. 422, 423; Meteren, iv. 79; Mendoza, viii. 174, 175; Wagenaer, vad.
Lawrence is a good fellow, but that wife of his always put me in mind of iced champagne, sparkling and cold." He sighed heavily, "Poor little Vad! It is a dreary outlook, but it seems my one resource. Lawrence is the only relative I have in the world.
"Poor little chap! So you are a pilgrim like the rest of us. I wish we did not have to go on and on, dearest!" she exclaimed passionately, "why cannot we stand still and enjoy?" "It would grow monotonous, little Vad. Progress is the law of all being, and seventy years of life is generally enough for the majority. You would not like to live to be an old lady of two hundred and fifty?
"Come on, boys he's going to clean out the whole bunch!" whooped Gene. "Oh, choke off!" Wally gritted disgustedly, glancing over his shoulder at them. "Go back to the house, and STAY there! Ma, make Vad quit that yelling, can't yuh?" He looked eloquently at Jack, keeping pace with him and smiling with the steely glitter in his eyes. "Women make me sick!" he snorted under his breath.
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