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Updated: June 14, 2025
This sweetness was of so powerful a quality that she momentarily forgot all about the contents of Withers's letter on the kitchen table, and tripped across to Mr. Hopkins's with an oblivious smile for him. "Good morning, Mr. Hopkins," she said. "I wonder if you've got a nice little dab for my dinner to-day? Yes? Will you send it up then, please? What a mild morning, like May!"
Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke, And Christmas blocks are burning; Their ovens they with bak't meats choke, And all their spits are turning. Without the door let sorrow lie, And if, for cold, it hap to die, We'll bury't in a Christmas pye, And evermore be merry. WITHERS'S Juvenilia.
Which we soon found out the secret of old Daddy Withers's life that there innocent-looking old jigger was a poet. He was kind of proud of it and kind of shamed of it both to oncet. The way it come out was when the doctor says one of them quotations he is always getting off, and the old man he looks pleased and says the rest of the piece it dropped out of straight through.
The doctor reads some of 'em out loud. Well, it was kind of home-made poetry, Old Daddy Withers's was. It wasn't like no other poetry I ever struck. And I could tell the doctor was thinking the same about it. It sounded somehow like it hadn't been jointed together right.
Your imagination, Furnival, is like the main sewer of this city." He said it without any sort of passion, in his voice of utter weariness, as if he was worn-out with struggling against imaginations such as mine. "But," he went on, "even your imagination isn't as obscene as Withers's. You may as well tell me what he said to you about Miss Thesiger."
Lake seemed to oppose him, and evidently it took vehemence and argument on Withers's part to make the Mormon tractable. But Withers won him over, and then he called Shefford to his side. "You fellows got to be good friends," he said. "You'll have charge of my pack-trains. Nas Ta Bega wants to go with you.
Withers's project of a memorial fountain at Pilgrim Station, there might have been a future to the acquaintance, for Thane was to have had charge of the execution of the design; but nature had lightly frustrated that fond, beneficent dream. Mr. Kinney had offered the practical suggestion that the road should go to the fountain, since the fountain could not come to the road.
Halfway back he espied a tall, dark figure moving toward him, and presently the shape and the step seemed familiar. Then he recognized Nas Ta Bega. Soon they were face to face. Shefford felt that the Indian had been trailing him over the sand, and that this was to be a significant meeting. Remembering Withers's revelation about the Navajo, Shefford scarcely knew how to approach him now.
Daphne could, and probably did, read of herself in the "Silver Standard," Sunday edition, which treats of social events, heralded among the prominent arrivals as "Jack Withers's maiden widow." This was a poetical flight of the city reporter.
And couldn't we arrange a time you, too, Betsy, I want you as well!" "I'm afeard I'd be like the fifth wheel to a wagon." "No, no! You must be there you must hear a good part of what I have to say." "A good part that'll do; thought you didn't mean the whole. Don't fret so, lad; you'll have Roger trampin' me down, next thing. Martha and me talk o' walkin' over to Polly Withers's.
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