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The gentleman apparently did not resent this, although he seemed in imminent danger of being upset. "How be you, Peleg? Er you know Will?" "No," said the gentleman. Mr. Bixby seized Mr. Wetherell under the elbow, and addressed himself to the storekeeper's ear. "Will, I want you to shake hands with Senator Peleg Hartington, of Brampton. This is Will Wetherell, Peleg, from Coniston you understand."
Through the thick trees the moonlight searched out the side porch of Hopewell Drugg's store. The plaintive notes of the storekeeper's violin breathed tenderly out upon the evening air: "Darling, I am growing old Silver threads among the gold," sighed Janice, happily. "And that is Miss 'Rill beside him there on the porch don't you see her?" "I see," said Nelson. "Mrs.
The storekeeper's daughter was always in a high state of excitement over some wonderful happening in Orchard Glen, while Christina was prepared to testify that nothing at all ever happened within the ring of its sleepy green hills, and she immediately forgot all about Mr. Wallace Sutherland. The next evening was the date of the concert, and excitement ran high.
Bodley had gone, and the storekeeper's wife was frankly weeping. "Poor Hopewell! he's sold the fiddle," sobbed 'Rill. "To that awful bartender?" demanded Janice. "Just as good as. The fellow's paid a deposit on it. If he comes back with the rest of the hundred dollars in a month, the fiddle is his. Otherwise, Hopewell declares he will send it to New York and take what he can get for it."
Our gallant grey horses were standing the strain well, and the worst roads as well as the most mountainous country were then behind us; so, without delay, we continued on the morrow, spending the third night at a storekeeper's house at Sterkstrom.
It was four o'clock that summer afternoon when the three women Margaret Bean, the tavern-keeper's wife, and the storekeeper's wife who had followed Dorothy and Eugene into the lane to pry upon them set forth to communicate by word of mouth the scandalous proceedings they had witnessed; and long before midnight all the village knew.
Here she turned pious and got religion, and when the Salvation Army came to the village she joined it, and went about with a red band on her sleeve and carried a guitar. She went to Bergen in that costume, on the storekeeper's boat that was last year. And she had just sent home a photograph of herself to her people at Breidablik.
Then, while Devine laughed softly, Weston strode up to the veranda and thrust a heavy bag into the storekeeper's hand. "Get a light," he said, "and look at them." It was ten minutes later when they sat around a little table in the back store, which smelt unpleasantly of salt pork and coffee.
Then they found that the boy was dead; it was only then that the Draug had let him go. There was once a young salesman at the storekeeper's at Sörvaag. He was fair, with curly hair, shrewd blue eyes, and so smart, and obliging, and handsome, that all the girls in the town got themselves sent on errands, and made pilgrimages to the shop on purpose to see him.
"Of course I have. What a question! I've seen it burn many a time, both at the parsonage and when we tried this one here at the storekeeper's." "And it burned, did it?" "Burned? Of course it did, and when we put up the shutters of the shop, you could have seen a needle on the floor. Look here, now!
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