Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 27, 2025
We passed a quiet day, excepting one little interruption, which I am warned not to pass over without a word of record in this narrative. We had returned from a ride. Romayne had gone into the library to read; and I was just leaving the stables, after a look at some recent improvements, when a pony-chaise with a gentleman in it drove up to the door.
The housekeeper was in the dining-room. I sent her out to call the driver of the pony-chaise into the house. The man came in the rough man whom I had noticed when we were approaching the garden gate. Benjamin opened the library door in stern silence. It was perhaps unworthy of me, but I could not resist the temptation to look in. Miserrimus Dexter had sunk down in the chair.
Quite off his balance and forgetful of perils, he ordered the pony-chaise and had himself driven into Blentmouth. He felt that he must tell somebody, and borrow some conclusions he was not equal to making any of his own. He must carry the news. He deceived himself and did gross injustice to the neighborhood.
In sheltered places the snowdrops and the crocuses gave the garden the blitheness of an Italian picture; and you felt that on that multi-coloured floor might fitly trip the delicate angels of Messer Perugino. The rector had an old pony-chaise, in which he was used to visit his parishioners, and in this all three drove out. 'Let us go down to the marshes, said Allerton.
Preston smiled, he could not help it, at the very happy and busy little face and spirit down in the pony-chaise. "What do you see, Daisy, that you have not seen a hundred times before?" "That makes no difference," said Daisy. "I have seen you a hundred times before." Preston laughed, set spurs to his horse, and went off for another gallop. Daisy enjoyed her morning's drive.
"Mother said you'd know." "Well, I'll tell you what I think sweetmeats ain't good for such folks. You wait till afternoon, and you shall have a pail of nice broth and a bowl of arrowroot with wine and sugar in it; that'll hearten her up. Will that do?" "But I should like to take something to the other poor woman, too." "How are you going?" "In my pony-chaise I can take anything."
It was a fine road; Axbridge a sort of toy village whose houses might have been made for good little girls to play with; and to avoid the traffic in the main road we went by way of Congresbury, where the Milford-Joneses live. I was glad we didn't meet them driving their old pony-chaise. I should have been ashamed to bow.
This is all I can find all the scentless first-fruits of the baby year. It is ten minutes past the due time now. Again I listen intently, as I listened yesterday, for his coming. There is a sound now; but, alas! not the right one! It is the rumbling of an approaching carriage. A pony-chaise bowls past. The occupants are acquaintances of mine, and we bow and smile to each other.
"Mother said you'd know." "Well, I'll tell you what I think sweetmeats ain't good for such folks. You wait till afternoon, and you shall have a pail of nice broth, and a bowl of arrowroot with wine and sugar in it; that'll hearten her up. Will that do?" "But I should like to take something to the other poor woman, too." "How are you going?" "In my pony-chaise I can take anything."
"Oh I get tired very often. I always did." "What sort of things make you tired? Do you take too long drives in your pony-chaise?" "I have no pony-chaise now, Dr. Sandford. Loupe was left at Melbourne. I don't know what became of him." "Why didn't you bring him along? But any other pony would do, Daisy." "I don't drive at all, Dr. Sandford.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking