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He was entirely satisfied with a couple of barrels of flour, which, being invoiced "slightly damaged", were to be had at a reasonable price. After this, Silas Peckham felt in good spirits. He had done a pretty stroke of business. It came into his head whether he might not follow it up with a still more brilliant speculation. So he turned his steps in the direction of Colonel Sprowle's.
Altogether Hillerton placed a high value upon his confidential clerk, and it was with a very genuine good-will that he followed up the last recorded observation, by saying, carelessly: "I hope you've kept out of the thing yourself, Peckham." "Oh, yes!" Peckham answered, in a tone of indifference, copied after Hillerton's own.
And that is the girl!" and she pointed an accusing finger at the flushed Janice. "Oh, I never!" exclaimed the latter under her breath, and shaking her head vigorously. Mr. Day gave her a smiling look of encouragement. "I feel sure," he said, to Miss Peckham, "that if Janice had by chance injured an animal a cat, or any other she would have told me.
But our ancestral adventures are beyond even the arithmetic of fancy; and it is the chief recommendation of long pedigrees, that we can follow backward the careers of our HOMUNCULOS and be reminded of our antenatal lives. Our conscious years are but a moment in the history of the elements that build us. Are you a bank-clerk, and do you live at Peckham? It was not always so.
The woman's eyes were a shallow brown color perhaps "faded" would be a better expression. It seemed as though she were too languid even to look with attention at any one or anything. "This is the girl, Sophrony," Miss Peckham repeated more sharply. "Oh, yes," murmured the strange woman, as though awakened from a brown study. "Yes. Quite a pretty little girl."
She had often expressed a great desire to see London; but though they were only distant a very short day's journey from it, she had never been able to satisfy her curiosity: it was not therefore without reason, that she grew weary of the life she was forced to lead at Peckham.
Arlo Junior was the child of all others in the neighborhood whom Miss Peckham carried on guerrilla warfare with. She had threatened to go to the police station and have Arlo Junior locked up the very next time he crossed her path in a mischievous way.
At the time of his true eminence he 'resided' in Evelina Road, Peckham, and none was more sensible than he how well the address became his provincial refinement. There he installed himself with his wife and Mrs. Thompson. His drawing-room suite was the envy of the neighbourhood; his pony-trap proclaimed him a man of substance; his gentle manners won the respect of all Peckham.
Even provincial human-nature sometimes has a touch of sublimity about it. Mr. Silas Peckham had gone a little deeper than he meant, and come upon the "hard pan," as the well-diggers call it, of the Colonel's character, before he thought of it. A militia-colonel standing on his sentiments is not to be despised. That was shown pretty well in New England two or three generations ago.
Principal Silas Peckham, who had been called from his slumbers by a message that Master Langdon was shot through the head by a highway-robber, but had learned a true version of the story by this time. His voice was at that moment heard above the rest, sharp, but thin, like bad cider-vinegar. "I take charge of that property, I say.
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