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Wentz cleared his throat and announced impressively: "There was a meeting of the directors called yesterday and it was decided that the bank must have its money." She cried aghast: "I haven't it, Mr. Wentz!" "Then there's only one alternative." "You mean ship the sheep?" Wentz stroked his mustache. "That's about the size of it." "But sheep are way down," she protested.
Mr. Wentz had a notion, fostered by his wife, that he was rather a handsome fellow. True, years of steaming had given to his complexion a look not unlike that of an evaporated apple, but this small defect was more than offset by a luxuriant brown mustache which he had trained carefully. His hair was sleek and neatly trimmed, and he used his brown eyes effectively upon occasions.
Vernon Wentz at his near-mahogany desk was deep in thought when Kate passed him. He bowed absently and she responded in the same manner. It occurred to Mr. Wentz that a time when everyone else was either borrowing, or endeavoring to, she was one of the few customers whose balances appeared ample for their expenses.
"The trip's did wonders for you. You look well, bloomin' isn't hardly strong enough. Miss Prentice, I want you to meet my wife you must." "Thanks so much." A certain dryness momentarily disconcerted Mr. Wentz. With a shade of chagrin Mr. Wentz returned to his desk, telling himself inelegantly that she was "feeling her oats."
There, looking long after it, I saw it diminish in size and brightness till it became filmy as a cloud, then melted into the company of the stars. Now, it is the recent publication by Mr. Evans Wentz of a careful and enthusiastic work upon The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries which has inspired me to put these pages before the public.
She was gazing at a bizarre figure in a wreath of paper roses trip down a staircase, radiant and eager to be greeted by mocking eyes and unsuppressed titters; at a crowded courtroom, staring mercilessly, tense, with unfriendly curiosity; at Neifkins with his insolent stare, his skin, red, shiny, stretched to cracking across his broad, square-jawed face; at Wentz, listening in cold amusement to a frightened, tremulous voice pleading for leniency; at a sallow face with dead brown eyes leering through a cloud of smoke, suggesting in contemptuous familiarity, "Why don't you fade away open a dance hall in some live burg and get a liquor license?"; at Mrs.
It was Colonel Watmough who named the place Hope Lodge as a compliment to his guardian. One of his daughters married Joseph Reed, son of General Joseph Reed, and another married John Sargent, the famous lawyer. Both the Reeds and Sargents occupied Hope Lodge at various times, and it eventually passed into the Wentz family.
Wentz had endeavored to train himself to conceal his feelings, and imagined he had succeeded. But now the wild impulse he felt to crawl through the aperture and embrace Kate told him otherwise. Kate watched the play of emotions over his face in deep satisfaction. There was no need of words to express his gratitude which was mostly relief. "I appreciate this, Miss Prentice, I do indeed.
And he only had a wheezy old steam carriage anyway, and sometimes blue flames would leap up all around you till you felt like a Christian martyr, and his boiler was always burning out when he'd try to hold my hand instead of watching the gage. You paid in every kind of way for riding with Lewis Wentz, and people talked about you besides but I always went just the same.
But I said that Lewis Wentz alone was worth two hundred and fifty, and that I'd draw on the other things when I needed money for repairs. Then pa suddenly had a new notion and said he wanted to be in the thing, too; would take a quarter interest of his own; that we'd change the syndicate to fourths instead of thirds. I was almost too thunderstruck to speak.
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