Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
She says he stole a golden sovereign of hers and hid it in an old shoe. Isn't it a shame, and he such a lovely bird?" "It's awful," I agreed. "What shall you do?" "I know a man who will buy him, but he is out of town till tomorrow. Could I depend on you, little master, to keep him for me till then? If he is left here the misses will do him an injury." "But Mrs. Handsomebody " I faltered.
Handsomebody, he lolled across the window-sill, dangling a piece of string, with the April sunshine warming his rounded back. And as he dangled the string, Mrs. Handsomebody drew nearer and nearer. She entered the gate she entered the house she was in the parlour!! Angel and Mary Ellen had just given their last triumphant shout, when Mrs.
The Seraph, with folded hands and bent head, repeated glibly: "Accept our thanks, O Lord, for these Thy good cweatures given to our use, and by them fit us for Thy service. Amen." There was a scraping of chairs, and we got to our feet. The Seraph, holding his bit of egg shell in his warm little palm asked "Is an egg a cweature, yet?" Mrs. Handsomebody gloomed down at him from her height.
Handsomebody's; and he made the pleasure endure by the most minute nibbling, filling up the gaps with large mouthfuls of toast. It was at a Sunday morning breakfast that Mrs. Handsomebody broached the subject of fishing.
Handsomebody never had a daughter, I know, and if she had she'd never have allowed her to wear these things. Look how she jaws when Mary Ellen spends her wage on finery. I'll bet Lucy was a beauty. And she's dead too, you can bet, and Charles was her lover, and likely he's dead too. 'Bide the time, eh? You see they're waitin' around yet somewheres. Isn't it queer?"
Handsomebody, presiding, like some whiskered ghost, over the revels of the stuffed birds in the glass case below him. But on a Saturday morning Mary Ellen swept and dusted there. The shutters were thrown open, and the thin-legged piano and the haircloth furniture were furbished up for the morrow. Moreover Mary Ellen liked our company. She had a spooky feeling about the parlour. Mr.
Handsomebody resembling, in my fancy, a hungry spider, in curl papers, considered which victim was ripest for slaughter. "You and you and you " she gobbled. "Oh, to think of it! No place safe! What you need is a strong man. We shall see! The very windows burst from their bolts!" She slammed the casement and secured it, Angel and The Seraph darting from her path.
We remembered our old home with its stretch of green lawn, the dogs, the stable with the sharp sweet smell of hay, and the pigeons, sliding and "rooketty-cooing" on the roof. Here, the windows of our schoolroom looked out on a planked back yard, and our daily walks with Mrs. Handsomebody were dreary outings indeed. Of a sudden Angel threw his Geography into the air. His brown eyes were sparkling.
She laid it at the feet of our governess as though to say "There now, what do you make of that?" "Horrors!" cried Mrs. Handsomebody, drawing back, as though the puppy were a serpent. With a joyful kick of the heels, Giftie was off again. In breathless silence we waited. The second puppy, sleepy and squirming, was laid beside its brother. "I presume you have another?" said Mrs.
Once in the haven of our little room we rolled in a confused heap on the bed, scuffling indiscriminately. It was a favourite punishment with Mrs. Handsomebody, and we had a suspicion that she relished the fact that so much food was saved when we went dinnerless. At any rate, we were not allowed to make up the deficiency at tea-time.
Word Of The Day