United States or Mali ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


William fled away, glad to be exonerated. And Mrs. Morel, who hated any bother with the neighbours, thought she would explain to Mrs. Anthony, and the business would be over. But that evening Morel came in from the pit looking very sour. He stood in the kitchen and glared round, but did not speak for some minutes. Then: "Wheer's that Willy?" he asked. "What do you want HIM for?" asked Mrs.

"An' wheer's he to come through?" says I. "Learoyd, my man," he sings out, "you're a pretty man av your inches an' a good comrade, but your head is made av duff. Isn't our friend Orth'ris a Taxidermist, an' a rale artist wid his nimble white fingers? An' what's a Taxidermist but a man who can thrate shkins?

Enter MATTIE and BILL. Tho. Thae'rt a domned villain! Wheer's mo Mattie? WATERFIELD knocks THOMAS down. Bill. O Lord! the swell's murdered old daddy! All but GER. rush together. COLONEL GERVAISE seizes WATERFIELD. MATTIE throws herself on her knees beside THOMAS and lifts his head. Mat. Father! father! Look at me! It's Mattie! your own wicked Mattie! Look at her once, lather dear! Bill.

And in front, sitting between them and the storm, was a quiet gray dog, his mouth stretched in a capacious yawn: to yawn was to win, and he won. When the worst of the uproar was over, many a glance of triumph was shot first at that one still pack, and then at M'Adam, as he waded through the disorder of huddling sheep. "And wheer's your Wullie noo?" asked Tapper scornfully.

THERE'S a babby for you, in the form of a Sea Porkypine! Right for all that, said Mr. Peggotty, stopping in his roar, and smiting his hands together; 'fur here she is! It was only Ham. The night should have turned more wet since I came in, for he had a large sou'wester hat on, slouched over his face. 'Wheer's Em'ly? said Mr. Peggotty. Ham made a motion with his head, as if she were outside. Mr.

At last a woman, whose threescore years and ten was the only warrant for her rude interruption, exclaimed: 'Wheer's th' parson? Hes he forgetten, thinksto? 'Mr. Penrose is ill i' bed, replied old Joseph, 'but I seed Mr. Hanson fra Burnt Hill Chapel, and he promised as he'd be here in his place.

"No more an' no less; an' everything said will be used against him." "You glumpy auld Dowl!" growled a labouring man. "All right, all right. You just wait, all of 'e! Wheer's the man? How much longer be I to bide his pleasure? March! Damn it all! be the Law a laughing-stock?" The Inspector was growing very hot and excited. "He's gone," said Phoebe, as Mr.

Come, I like that, arter risking all this here to get a word with you." "Go back to your friends, you scoundrel," whispered Mr Frewen; "you have come to spy upon us!" "Wheer's my lantern, then? Man can't spy a night like this, when it's as black as inside a water-cask in a ship's hold." "Mr Frewen is right," I said. "Go back to your friends."

You 'm grawin' tu auld for all the excitements of modern life, Billy. Wheer's Will?" "You may well ax. Sleepin' still, I reckon, for he comed in long arter midnight. I was stirrin' at the time an' heard un. Sleepin' arter black deeds, if all they tell be true." "Black deeds!" "The bwoy Ted's just comed wi' it.

"Well, I reckoned there might be some sense in what t' lad said, for if I could raise a seck o' seed potates like yon I'd sooin' mak my fortune. But then I bethowt me o' t' time o' t' yeer, and I said: "'But wheer's t' sense o' settin' a potate at t' back-end? "'Thou'll not have to wait so lang to see what cooms on 't, he replied, and then he turned on his heel an' left me standin' theer.