United States or Hong Kong ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The oddness of the arrangement, and the quaint way in which Cicely made it, won Miss Waite's heart, and when she heard the girl's step in the hall that evening, she opened the door. "Come right in," she called, cordially. "I can't spare the roses until after supper, so you will have to come in and eat with me. You've no idea how much I have enjoyed them!" Cicely paused timidly on the threshold.
They were getting on well till Church asked: "Let me see, Mr. Smart, where is your place?" "North Portage," said Solomon in his crispest manner. No one seemed to know him, or to remember him five seconds. "Oh, yes; North Portage. Waite goes there. Waite's a good fellow; you like him, don't you?" "I'd like to have him stay at home. I never want to see a drummer."
When the father of Mrs. Waite's first husband died, he left all his large property to his grandchild, providing she could be found and identified within a certain time, failing which the property was to be distributed among certain designated charities. Waite was named sole administrator. Well, the old man took as much interest in it as though it was his own girl, but made mighty little progress.
Sylvia hurried home, eager to tell her mother of her wonderful new friend, and of Flora's departure to the plantation. Mrs. Fulton listened in surprise. But when Sylvia finished her story of Mr. Waite's kindness, declaring that he was just like Santa Claus, she did not reprove her for going on such an errand without permission, but agreed with her little daughter that Mr.
He sent to Chief Justice Morrison R. Waite a copy of his eulogy on Chief Justice Salmon P. Chase, Waite's predecessor, and at the same time a ham, saying in his letter: "My dear Chief Justice, I send you to-day one of my prize hams and also my eulogy on Chief Justice Chase, both the products of my pen." The good things Mr. Evarts said would be talked of long after a dinner.
Waite's good liquor was still lounging in his chair. He seemed to be, if not a lodger, at least a familiar visitor of the house who might be supposed to have his regular score at the bar, his summer seat at the open window and his prescriptive corner at the winter's fireside.
The following account of the meeting of Balsamo and the stranger is taken from Waite's book: "As he was promenading one day near the jetty at the extremity of the port he encountered an individual singularly habited and possessed of a most remarkable countenance.
The best of it was that it was only a beginning, and there were few nights afterward, during that long winter, when the warmth and light of Miss Waite's room was not shared for awhile, at least, with the little seamstress.
He heard Abel Waite's steps running toward him, and felt his hands thrust into his blouse pocket over his breast. Then the boy said with a start of surprise: "Why, he's alive yet. Come here, Wat." Wat and the Irishmen hastened to him. He felt Wat's hand laid on his breast, and then held over his mouth. "'E's certainly warm yet. Hand 'e breathes."
What do you mean?" exclaimed Sylvia, sitting up in bed. "I'se gwine to be sold! Jes' like I tells you. My mammy was over to Massa Waite's house las' night, and she hears ober dar dat Massa Robert's gwine to sell off every nigger what ain't workin' this week!" Estralla's voice had drifted into her old-time wail. "Oh, Estralla!
Word Of The Day