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Updated: June 17, 2025
For two long burning hours did the Connemara filly circle in Ring 3, and during all that time not once did her owner's ears hear the longed-for summons, "Hi! grey mare!" It seemed to her that every other horse in the ring was called in to the rails, "and she doesn't look so very thin to-day!" said Fanny indignantly to Captain Spicer, who, with Mr. Gunning, had come to take her away for lunch.
"Samson, I've done asked ye all the questions I'm a-goin' ter ask ye," he said, "but them dawgs is makin' fer this house. They've jest been sighted a mile below." Samson nodded. "Now" Spicer South's face hardened "I owns down thar ter the road. No man kin cross that fence withouten I choose ter give him leave.
'It's like Chatterton! though I'm sure I hope you won't end like him, sir. It's like Goldsmith! indeed it is! 'I've got half Oliver's name, at all events, laughed the young man. 'Mine is Goldthorpe. 'You don't say so, sir! What a strange coincidence! Mine, sir, is Spicer. I I don't know whether you'd care to come into my garden? We might talk there
In less than a week Mr. Spicer and he were so friendly that they began to eat together, taking it in turns to prepare the meal. Little by little Mr. Spicer revealed the facts of his history. He had begun life, in a midland town, as a chemist's errand-boy, and by steady perseverance, with a little pecuniary help from relatives, had at length risen to the position of chemist's assistant.
Spicer and Margaret Howes had joined their congratulations to the others, she was fully recovered and enjoying herself immensely, arguing with Margaret Howes and Bruce as to the shape of the projected seat with a freedom that was usually denied her. The subject of Mary Miller was brought up and discussed with great interest.
"Well, we'll come down and pick you up there after the first match, you poor, miserable thing," said Mrs. Spicer, "and I hope you'll find that beast of a horse dead when you get there! You look half dead yourself!" How sick Fanny was of signing her name at that turnstile! The pen was more atrocious every time. How tired her feet were!
I was interrupted by my mother requesting me to go a message for her, and during my absence Virginia had taken up the book. "Who lent you this book, Tom?" said she, when I returned. "Spicer, the man whom they call Black Sam, who is now dying in the hospital." "Well, that's not the name on the title-page it is Walter James, Tynemouth." "Walter James, did you say, dear? Let me look! Even so."
And over beyond the ridge, where the springs and brooks flowed the other way to feed Crippleshin, dwelt the Hollmans, the Purvies, the Asberries, the Hollises and the Daltons men equally strong in their vindictive fealty to the code of the vendetta. By mountain standards, old Spicer South was rich.
Spicer spoke with careful curbing of his impatience. "Yore pap stood out fer eddycation. He had ideas about law an' all that, an' he talked 'em. He got shot ter death. Yore Uncle John South went down below, an' got ter be a lawyer. He come home hyar, an' ondertook ter penitentiary Jesse Purvy, when Jesse was High Sheriff. I reckon ye knows what happened ter him."
Evans & Crooke may be willing to save so much of their property," said Mr. Tyrrwhit. "They'd like to have what's due to 'em." "We should all like that," said Spicer, and he gnashed his teeth and shook his head. "But we can't get it all," said Tyrrwhit. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Tyrrwhit," said Hart. "I think I can get mine.
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