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"Dr Smalley and Dr Tinker both was." "Yes; but I mean the wimmen: an' how on earth did old Tinker ever get away from Mrs Tinker for that length of time? You'll never see one of them kind of wimmen at anythink that makes for progress. That's the way they make theirselves superior to the likes of you an' me by never doin' nothink only for theirselves.
I intended, if necessary, to remind them of that patronage, on the present occasion. The moment I got back I spoke to my clerk; and, after telling him what had happened, I sent him to his brother's office, "with Mr. Bruff's compliments, and he would be glad to know why Messrs. Skipp and Smalley had found it necessary to examine Lady Verinder's will." This message brought Mr.
What came of that, I may as well tell here as anywhere; it will not take long. It is not really an integral part of our story, but I think you will like to know. Miss Smalley herself answered the note. It was easy enough to evade any close questions on her part; she thought it was "a good deal more suitable for Bel not to stay at Mrs.
He led the way down a green-tiled corridor to an elevator then down another corridor past a pair of soft-footed nurses who eyed them curiously looking at Kennon's tunic and sandals with mild disapproval in their eyes. Smalley stopped and knocked softly on a closed door. "Enter," said a pleasant baritone voice from the annunciator. "Dr. Brainard Dr. Kennon," Smalley said.
He parted the branches and saw Elinor Doyle lying there, conscious and white with pain. Perhaps never in his life was Doctor Smalley to be so rewarded as with the look in her eyes when she saw him. "Why, Mrs. Doyle!" was all he could think to say. "I have broken my other leg, doctor," she said, "the rope gave way." "You come down that rope?" "I tried to. I was a prisoner.
That night I went alone to the fill and found Terrence Smalley with a cut face and a twisted shoulder lying above the place where Tank went down. I helped him to my home and dressed his wounds. I may have done wrong not to deliver him to the authorities, but he had a bad story to tell of Tank's bank record that would have disgraced the Shirley family in Ohio, so we made an agreement.
Petunia and I like him. I think he's what you said our Bridget was, a rough damson." "Not damson; diamond, dear." "Oh, yes. It was damson preserve Mrs. Smalley had for supper last night. I forgot. Petunia told me to say damson; she makes so many mistakes." They heard the "rough diamond" returning. He seemed to be in a hurry.
Josiah Dimick has a unique faculty of grasping a situation and summing it up in an out-of-the-ordinary way. "I think," observed Josiah to the excited group at Simmons's, "that this town owes Cy Whittaker a vote of thanks." "Thanks!" gasped Alpheus Smalley, so shocked and horrified that he put the one-pound weight on the scales instead of the half pound. "THANKS! After what we've found out?
The only difference between the dresses we make for girls of sixteen and the dresses we make for their grandmothers of sixty is that the sixty-year-old ones want 'em shorter and lower, and they run more to rose-bud trimming." Emma surveyed the acid Miss Smalley with a look that was half amused, half vexed, wholly determined. "I shan't wear it.
SMALLEY goes everywhere, sees everything, knows everybody, and his readers in New York learn a great deal more of what is going on in London than some of us who live here.
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