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Anne Woolston, the oldest sister of Mark, and Bridget Yardley, were nearly of an age, and they were not only school-mates, but fast friends.
Juliet my wife my wife is was Lady Joanna Farringmore!" "Great heavens!" said the squire. "Dick, are you sure?" "Yes, quite sure. She was caught caught by Yardley at the meeting to-night. She couldn't escape so she told the truth told the whole crowd and then bolted bolted with Saltash." "Great heavens!" said the squire again. "But what was Saltash doing there?" "Oh, he came to protect her.
"You might get me some Condy's Fluid," he said shortly. She had none! It was a terrible lapse for a capable housewife. Dr. Yardley raised his eyebrows: "No Condy's Fluid in the house!" She was condemned. "I do happen to have a couple of tablets of Chinosol," he said, "but I wanted to keep them in reserve for later in the day." He threw two yellow tablets into the basin of water.
She ran into the shop or she would have run if she had not checked her girlishness betimes and on her lips, ready to be whispered importantly into a husband's astounded ear, were the words, "Maggie has given notice! Yes! Truly!" But Samuel Povey was engaged. He was leaning over the counter and staring at an outspread paper upon which a certain Mr. Yardley was making strokes with a thick pencil.
Why? Meanwhile, Judge Ostrander was looking about him for Mrs. Yardley. The quiet figure of a squat little body blocked up a certain doorway. "I am looking for Mrs. Yardley," he ventured. The little figure turned; he was conscious of two very piercing eyes being raised to his, and heard in shaking accents, which yet were not the accents of weakness, the surprised ejaculation: "Judge Ostrander!"
The scene which had taken place under the roof of Doctor Yardley was soon known under that of Doctor Woolston. Although the last individual was fully aware that Bridget was what was then esteemed rich, at Bristol, he cared not for her money.
I am, dear Sir, Yours respectfully, JAMES GRIDGE. Mr. Eustace Davenant has received the half-servile, half-insolent screed which Mr. Yardley has addressed to him. Let Mr. Yardley cease from crawling on his knees and shaking his fist. Neither this posture nor this gesture can wring one bent farthing from the pockets of Mr. Yardley is at once the most grasping and the least competent.
Three women were at work in this busiest of scenes, and, deciding at a glance which was the able mistress of the house, he approached the large, pleasant and commanding figure piling plates at the farther end of the room and courteously remarked: "Mrs. Yardley, I believe?" The answer came quickly, and not without a curious smile of constraint: "Oh, no. Mrs. Yardley is in the entry behind."
Parkney to go on living in the farmhouse and to be his farm manager. "He's going to paint the house and the barns for me this spring and whitewash all the fences," said the judge. "There isn't anything that man can't do." "Spring is on the way," announced Daddy Horton, one evening early in March. "I see they are having freshets out in Yardley county." "What is a freshet?" asked Sunny Boy.
Yardley were occasionally to be seen seated at the same tea-table, taking their hyson in company, for the recent trade with China had expelled the bohea from most of the better parlours of the country; nevertheless, these good ladies could not get to be cordial with each other.
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