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Updated: June 24, 2025
Dwyer's house, with its picture gallery, was across the street. In the midst of such imposing company the little dwelling which became the home of our heroine sat well back in a plot that might almost be called a garden. In summer its white wooden front was nearly hidden by the quivering leaves of two tall pear trees.
Very probably these last words may have been as so much Greek to the juvenile members of the audience; possibly, though, they were made aware of the meaning of them by the look upon the face of Nephew Percival Dwyer and the look upon the face of Nephew Percival Dwyer's attorney.
Dwyer's house, with its picture gallery, was across the street. In the midst of such imposing company the little dwelling which became the home of our heroine sat well back in a plot that might almost be called a garden. In summer its white wooden front was nearly hidden by the quivering leaves of two tall pear trees.
Dwyer's astonishment, drew from him what was apparently a torrent of tears. "Let me go to me father. I want me father," the boy shrieked, hysterically. "They've 'rested father. Oh, daddy, daddy. They're a- goin' to take you to prison." "Who is your father, sonny?" asked one of the guardians of the gate. "Keppler's me father," sobbed Gallegher.
Indeed this matter is full of mystery, for, revenge alone excepted, which I believe, in such minds as Dwyer's, seldom overcomes the sense of interest, the only intelligible motive which could have prompted him to such an act was the hope that since he had, through young O'Mara's interest, procured from the colonel a lease of a small farm upon the terms which he had originally stipulated, he might prosecute his plan touching the property of Martin Heathcote, rendering his daughter's hand free by the removal of young O'Mara.
To this Heathcote had replied: 'Never fear me; I understand what I am about. This was said in such an ambiguous manner that it was impossible to conjecture whether he intended or not to act upon Dwyer's exhortation. The conclusion which appeared most natural, was by no means an agreeable one.
Dwyer's astonishment, drew from him what was apparently a torrent of tears. "Let me go to me father. I want me father," the boy shrieked, hysterically. "They've 'rested father. Oh, daddy, daddy. They're a-goin' to take you to prison." "Who is your father, sonny?" asked one of the guardians of the gate. "Keppler's me father," sobbed Gallegher.
But I have often thought it would be nice to sit for a whole summer by the sea and listen to the waves dashing upon the beach, like those in the Chase picture in Mr. Dwyer's gallery." Aunt Mary little guessed the unspeakable rebellion aroused in Honora by this acknowledgment of being fatally circumscribed. Wouldn't Uncle Tom ever be rich? Aunt Mary shook her head she saw no prospect of it.
Dwyer, sir," he began faintly, with his eyes fixed fearfully on the managing editor, "he got arrested and I couldn't get here no sooner, 'cause they kept a-stopping me, and they took me cab from under me but " he pulled the notebook from his breast and held it out with its covers damp and limp from the rain, "but we got Hade, and here's Mr. Dwyer's copy."
For she had never conceived of him as having any desires whatever. "I want a house like Mr. Dwyer's," he declared, pointing at the distant imposing roof line against the fading eastern sky. Honora laughed. The idea of Peter wishing such a house was indeed ridiculous. Then she became grave again. "There are times when you seem to forget that I have at last grown up, Peter.
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