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"In years, after the birth of Christ, one thousand nine hundred and three." "Time flies. But have you made arty progress? Are you still a country and a nation?" "We are. But since Gustavus I, the country has grown. Jaemtland, Herjedalen, and Gottland have been added." "Who conquered them?" "Well, it was in the time of Queen Christina; but her guardians really conquered them." "And then?"
"I do not," declared Mrs. Arty. "Still, there was one thing about Horatio. I never had to look up his account to find out how much he owed me. He stopped calling me, Little Buttercup, when he owed me ten dollars, and he even stopped slamming the front door when he got up to twenty. O Mr. Wrenn, did I ever tell you about the time I asked him if he wanted to have Annie sweep "
So, naturally enough, what they produce is mere "arty" anecdote. This, perhaps, is the secret of their success their success, I mean, with the cultivated public. Those terrible young fellows who were feared to be artists turn out after all to be innocent Pre-Raphaelites. They leave Burlington House without a stain upon their characters.
Harrison left his wife because she throwed things at him . . . HARD things . . . and Arty Sloane says it was because she wouldn't let him smoke, and Ned Clay says it was 'cause she never let up scolding him. I wouldn't leave MY wife for anything like that. I'd just put my foot down and say, 'Mrs.
They had picnic dinner early up there on the Palisades: Nelly and Mr. Wrenn, Mrs. Arty and Tom, Miss Proudfoot and Mrs. Samuel Ebbitt, the last of whom kept ejaculating: "Well! I ain't run off like this in ten years!"
The lobby brother had apprehended it all. He cleared the gallery at a run, passed a familiar doorkeeper like a dart, and raised his senior to his breast. "Arty," he whispered, "may Heaven forgive me! I repent of my folly and wickedness, and entreat you to speak to me!" "Heaven has forgiven you, Elk MacNair!" muttered the spent Congressman.
And Aggie drew the children closer to her, and went on with the rhyme in her sad, weak whisper. "If you must read aloud to them, for goodness' sake speak up and have done with it. I can't stand that whispering." Aggie put down the picture-book, and Arty seized one half and Catty the other, and they tugged, till Catty let go and hit Arty, and Arty hit Catty back again, and Catty howled.
Strangely enough the Democratic paper, observing exactly the same historic events, took this jaundiced view of the matter: "Arty Caldwell, Republican boss of the Sixth District, who is out mending his political fences, spellbound a handful of his henchmen at the School House near Blandford Crossing on Tuesday evening." And here was Mr.
Lovely she looked there, with her eyes still open, her lips parted, her hair trailing behind. And again Fiorsen raised his hands high to clap, and again called out: 'Brava! But the curtain fell, and Ophelia did not reappear. Was it the sight of him, or was she preserving the illusion that she was drowned? That "arty" touch would be just like her.
Three stout constables dragged the astounded Dummie from the court in an instant, yet the more ruthlessly for his ejaculating, "Eh, sirs, what's this? I tells you I have saved the judge's hown flesh and blood! Vy, now, gently, there; you'll smart for this, my fine fellow! Never you mind, Paul, my 'arty; I 'se done you a pure good "
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