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Updated: June 29, 2025
Buckley's eye into her husband's, as rapid as those which move the quivering telegraph needles, and yet not unobserved, I think, by Captain Brentwood, for there grew upon his face a pleasant smile, which, rapidly broadening, ended in a low laugh, by no means disagreeable to hear, though Sam wondered what the joke could be, until the Captain said,
This man now came into Major Buckley's parlour, hat in hand, looking a little foolish, and when I saw him my knife and fork were paralyzed with astonishment. "I went up to Hipsley's about the colt," he said, "and when I got home I found you were gone off unexpectedly; so I thought it better to come after you and tell you all about it. He won't take less than thirty-five." "Man! man!"
When Hamlyn comes to Baroona from the neighbouring station to spend Christmas with his old friends, he finds the same lady 'picking raisins in the character of a duchess. Considered apart from the story, these Dickensian touches might seem merely humorous exaggeration, but to those who have traced the development of Mrs. Buckley's character, how happy and pregnant they are!
She was at Buckley's side, consuming a slice of cake with delicate, precise motions of her hand, and greeting with patent abstraction his solicitous attentions. Meta Beggs saw Gordon at the same moment; and, without observation on the part of her escort, beckoned him to her. She said promptly: "Mr.
O'Malligan and beg a scrap of paper to write a few lines to put under her sister's door. Again Fate was against her. Mrs. O'Malligan's door was locked, and she determined to run across to the corner grocery to beg a bit of paper and pencil from Mr. Buckley's brother Bill who clerked there, and learn something of the absent family.
On one occasion, after a causeless fit of anger with Jim, while the three were at Major Buckley's together, he got his pony and rode away home, secretly speaking to no one.
But about eleven o'clock that day, Burnside, the cattle dealer, mentioned once before in these pages, arrived at Major Buckley's, from somewhere up country, and found the house apparently deserted. But having coee'd for some time, a door opened in one of the huts, and a sleepy groom came forth, yawning. "Where are they all?" asked Burnside. "Mrs. Buckley and the women were down at Mrs.
His tone held a crisp cordiality, searching and professionally genial. "What d'ye want ... a story?" "Yes," said Stanley. "About the election?" Stanley hesitated. "Tell me about the gambling concession at Platt's Hall," he said suddenly. Buckley's manner changed. It became, if anything, more cordial. "My boy," his tone was low, "you're wasting time as a reporter.
Or kind of feelers in the dark, perhaps. He listened to her licking lap. Ham and eggs, no. No good eggs with this drouth. Want pure fresh water. Thursday: not a good day either for a mutton kidney at Buckley's. Fried with butter, a shake of pepper. Better a pork kidney at Dlugacz's. While the kettle is boiling. She lapped slower, then licking the saucer clean. Why are their tongues so rough?
"Of course I can the mistress willing." "Well, I said I wished to send you on an errand, and she told me where to find you." "That is all right then." "Go to Goodman Buckley's, in Salem village, and ask him for a bundle I left bring it to my house, you know, you can take the roan horse there.
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