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Updated: August 23, 2024
And then, as if frightened at his own rashness, he continued in a low voice, "I believe that even here I am being watched. To-morrow I will have that grove of fig-trees yonder uprooted. The young priest there, who seems so fond of gardening, has other fruit in his mind besides the half-ripe figs that he is so slowly dropping into his basket.
If you'll come along, we'll speak to them, before some one else is put off on them." Claude didn't want to go, didn't want to accept favours, nevertheless he went. They walked together along a dusty road that ran between half-ripe wheat fields, bordered with poplar trees. The wild morning-glories and Queen Anne's lace that grew by the road-side were still shining with dew.
The sun sinks out of sight, and leaves behind a tinge of purple, of modest gray touched with topaz ah! that is better. I paint and I paint and I paint. Oh, Good Lord, how beautiful it is how beautiful! The sun has disappeared and left behind a soft, luminous, gauzy tint of lemon lemons half-ripe. The light melts and blends into the blue of the night. How beautiful!
"What have you been eating?" demanded John Allan, gruffly. "Nothing, since breakfast, Sir," was the reply. "Headaches are for nervous women. When a healthy boy complains of one, and declines dinner, it generally means that he has been robbing somebody's strawberry patch or up a cherry-tree, stuffing half-ripe fruit," he said in the acid, suspicious tone that the boy knew.
Number Two did pretty well for a month, but his integrity and his appetite conflicted, and Miss Lucinda found him one moonlight night perched in her plum-tree devouring the half-ripe fruit. She shook him down with as little ceremony as if he had been an apple; and though he lay at Death's door for a week with resulting cholera-morbus, she relented not.
His yellow-brown eyes widened until they looked round. He had not counted on anyone's being able to cross the river for fully half an hour. If Smaltz had been the villain of fiction, he would have been a coward as well. But Smaltz was not a coward. It is true he was startled so startled that his skin turned a curious yellow-green like a half-ripe pear but he was not afraid.
"Oh, I think everybody's the same," said Polly, picking off half-ripe mulberries and flinging them hither and thither; "but that doesn't make one any better pleased with oneself for being a fool." "You're not a fool," said I, pulling her down to the seat again; "but I wish you wouldn't be cross when you're unhappy. Look at me. Disappointment has made me sympathetic instead of embittering me.
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