United States or Montserrat ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
A blue-jay perched on the roof of their house and began his harsh complaint to an unheeding world, into which a squirrel presently broke with vociferous reply. An up-river breeze rustled the maple leaves, laid cooling fingers from salt water on Hollister's face, all sweaty from his labor with the paddle. He could see beauty where Doris saw it.
He laid his cap and gloves on the bed, seated himself, swung his feet to and fro for a second, and reached for one of Hollister's cigarettes. "It's a hard world, old thing," he complained. "Here was I all set for an enjoyable winter. Nice people in Vancouver. All sorts of fetching affairs on the tapis. And I'm to be demobilized myself next week.
As the Judge let himself in at the front door, a murmur of voices from the brightly-lighted parlor struck gratefully on his ear. He was not too late. "How are you, Hollister?" he called as he pulled off his overcoat. "Glad to see you back. Let's hear all about the Urbana experience." Hollister's dramatic interest in each engagement of his battle for success was infectious.
Chance, the inscrutable arbiter of human destinies, had directed him that morning to a man cutting wood on the bank of the river close by that cluster of houses where other men stirred about various tasks, where there must have been wives and mothers, for he saw a dozen children at play by a snow fort. "Steamer?" the man answered Hollister's inquiry.
My father couldn't intend to do that, just because my monthly reports hadn't always been what he thought they ought to be! Gene Hollister's were no better, if as good, and he was going to Princeton.
Gretchen and Anna had learned in crises, such as the present to restrain the superabundant vitality they had inherited. If their cheekbones were a little too high, their Delft blue eyes a little too small, their colour was of the proverbial rose-leaves and cream. Gene Hollister's difficulty was to know which to marry.
But she was here all afternoon, and we didn't spend five hours talking about the weather." "What did you talk about then?" Hollister asked curiously. "Men and women and money mostly," Doris replied. "If one may judge a woman by the impressionistic method, I should say that Mrs. Bland would be very attractive to men." It was on the tip of Hollister's tongue to say, "She is."
They must watch lest the fire back down into the valley again and destroy their timber, as it had destroyed Hollister's. They had blankets and food. Hollister gave his own men the freedom of the house. Their quarters on the hill stood in the doomed timber. The old log house would be ashes now. He wondered what Doris was doing, if she steadily gained her sight.
Hollister's reason projected him swiftly and surely out of pained and useless speculation into forthright doing. From surety of what he had seen he passed to doubt, to uneasiness about himself: for if he could not look at a fair-haired woman without seeing Myra's face, then he must be going mad. He must know, beyond any equivocation.
"What business have you here, anyhow?" she went on fiercely. "I am here to adopt Mrs. Hollister's second child," stated Rankin, collecting himself with an effort. Mrs. Lowder's pale face flushed. "You'll do nothing of the sort. I shall adopt my brother's child myself! How dare you a perfect stranger " "Mrs. Hollister wishes it," said Rankin.
Word Of The Day