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And though base viols if played right may be melodious, yet Sam Pixley's base viol wuz a old one, and sort a cracked and grumbly in tone, and he wuzn't much of a player anyway, and to me, base viols always sounded kinder base anyway."
At the end of it all marched a plentiful crew of tatterdemalions, a few bleared white men, and the rest negroes. They bore aloft a crazy transparency, exhibiting the legend: "FRANK PIXLEY'S HARD-MONEY LEAGUE.
Pixley's life could only be saved by the famous surgeon from England, and that even if the operation were successful it would mean that Elizabeth and her parents would have to be away from home many months. But Jan was only a dog, so their words meant nothing to him. After that hour everything was in confusion.
Tell them I'm coming!" Slowly the dog went back to the big dining-room. But Elizabeth and her mother were not in their accustomed places, either. Puzzled, he trotted through the hallway and up the wide stairs, following the sound of murmuring voices in Mr. Pixley's room. Through the half-open door Jan saw two strange men talking to Elizabeth and her mother. On the bed, very white and quiet, Mr.
Peter Port, and that their scathing comments on a peculiarly bad failure, and on the remarkable contrast between the profession and the practice of Jeremiah Pixley's life, had driven Charles Svendt almost crazy. The wound was raw in their hearts. There was no need to turn the knife in it. "We shall see him back here with Mrs.
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