Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 7, 2025
Rias he kep' store and done it well, brisker'n I ever see him, Rias was. Wait till I put some of them things back, and make you more comfortable, Will." He moved a few parcels and packages from Wetherell's feet and glanced at Cynthia as he did so.
"Jethro Bass did not know that you that you had used me?" he asked at length. "No," replied Mr. Merrill thickly, "no. He didn't know a thing about it he doesn't know it now, I believe." A smile came upon Wetherell's face, but Mr. Merrill could not look at it. "You have made me very happy," said the storekeeper, tremulously.
I have always thought of Cynthia Ware as a spirit." Jethro turned at the words, and came and stood looking over Wetherell's shoulder at the pictures of mother and daughter. In the rosewood box was a brooch and a gold ring Cynthia Ware's wedding ring and two small slips of yellow paper. William Wetherell opened one of these, disclosing a little braid of brown hair.
He undid the wrapping of the parcel, and there lay disclosed a book with a very gorgeous cover. He thrust it into the child's lap. "It's 'Robinson Crusoe'!" she exclaimed, and gave a little shiver of delight that made ripples in the pool. Then she opened it not without awe, for William Wetherell's hooks were not clothed in this magnificent manner. "It's full of pictures," cried Cynthia.
And now, as in the distance, came a faint, indefinable stir, not yet to be identified by Wetherell's ears as a sound, but registered somewhere in his brain as a warning note. Bijah Bixby, as sensitive as he, straightened up to listen, and then the whispering was hushed. The members below raised their heads, and some clutched the seats in front of them and looked up at the high windows.
Worthington was, indeed, descending the steps and walking across the lawn toward them, nodding and smiling to acquaintances as he passed. To Wetherell's astonishment he made directly for the place where he was standing and held out his hand. "How do you do, Mr. Wetherell?" he said. "Perhaps you don't remember me, Bob Worthington."
And now, as in the distance, came a faint, indefinable stir, not yet to be identified by Wetherell's ears as a sound, but registered somewhere in his brain as a warning note. Bijah Bixby, as sensitive as he, straightened up to listen, and then the whispering was hushed. The members below raised their heads, and some clutched the seats in front of them and looked up at the high windows.
Rias he kep' store and done it well, brisker'n I ever see him, Rias was. Wait till I put some of them things back, and make you more comfortable, Will." He moved a few parcels and packages from Wetherell's feet and glanced at Cynthia as he did so.
Jethro was often silent for hours at a time, but it seemed to Cynthia that it was the silence of peace of a peace he had never known before. There came no newspapers to the tannery house now: during the mid-week he read the books of which she had spoken William Wetherell's books; or sat in thought, counting, perhaps; the days until she should come again.
Wetherell's hand impressively. His own was very moist. "Heard you was in town, Mr. Wetherell," he said heartily. "If Jethro calls you a particular friend, it means something, I guess. It means something to me, anyhow." "Will hain't a politician," said Jethro. "Er Alvy?" "Hello!" said Mr. Hopkins. "Er Will don't talk."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking