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Had you thought of going to-day?" "Why, no. I hadn't thought of going in. Are you going?" "Did you see the Trimble ad. in the morning paper?" "No, I didn't see the papers this morning. My head felt too bad." "Well, just glance at it. It will interest you. They have the Kimberley Queen, the great new South African diamond on exhibition there." "They have?
In him they find a friend, if he knows, as he usually does, that they have passed through life with a character of worth and hereditary integrity. If they want a portion of their outfit, and possess not means to procure it, in kind-hearted James Trimble they are certain to find a friend, who will supply their necessities upon the strength of their bare promise to repay him.
"If this ain't a wig, y'll have a headache t'morrow," observed Miss Trimble, weaving her fingers into his luxuriant head-covering and pulling. "Wish y' luck! Ah! 'twas a wig. Gimme those spect'cles." She surveyed the results of her handiwork grimly. "Say, Clarence," she remarked, "y're a wise guy. Y' look handsomer with 'em on. Does any one know this duck?" "It is Mitchell," said Mrs. Pett.
Wa'n't she from somewheres up Parsley way?" whispered Miss Rebecca, as they stumbled in the half-light. "Poor meechin' body, wherever she come from," replied Mrs. Trimble, as she knocked at the door. There was silence for a moment after this unusual sound; then one of the Bray sisters opened the door.
Before nine o'clock, about the time of Winder's repulse, finding the resistance of the enemy more formidable than be had anticipated, he had recalled his brigades from the opposite bank of the Shenandoah, and had ordered them to burn the bridge. Trimble and Patton abandoned the battle-field of the previous day, and fell back to Port Republic.
The most ferocious of all pirates for once preferred to run away and live to fight another day. His boat denied him, he whirled about to plunge through the tall, matted grass. He was running in the direction of the dry knoll whence he had appeared. Infuriated by the fate of the two seamen, Trimble Rogers made a try at shooting him on the wing but the musket ball failed to find the mark.
The boat passed abreast of the pirogue so artfully concealed in the pocket of a tiny cove. The intervening distance was no more than a dozen yards. Old Trimble Rogers wistfully fingered the musket and lifted it to squint along the barrel. Never was temptation more sturdily resisted. Then his face, hard as iron and puckered like dried leather, broke into a smile. The idea pleased him immensely.
At the mention of the name of the big Trimble store I had recognised at once what the man was, and it did not need Kennedy's rapid-fire introduction of Michael Donnelly to tell me that he was a department store detective. "Have you no clue, no suspicions?" inquired Kennedy. "Well, yes, suspicions," measured Donnelly slowly.
Trimble's sorrel horse was old and stiff, and the wheels were clogged by clay mud. The frost was not yet out of the ground, although the snow was nearly gone, except in a few places on the north side of the woods, or where it had drifted all winter against a length of fence. "There must be a good deal o' snow to the nor'ard of us yet," said weather-wise Mrs. Trimble.
"Yes, I'm that farmer," said the man, scowling. "Jake Trimble is my name, and when I want a thing I get it! I want that boy!" "Oh, please don't make me go back to work for him!" begged Tom. "He beat me, and he didn't give me enough to eat!" "Don't be, afraid," said Mr. Brown. "He shan't have you!" "I say I will!" cried the cross man. "That boy hired out to work for me, and I want him!"
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