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Updated: June 19, 2025
The stream, I afterwards learned, came down from Miss Belcher's park, and was the real boundary of the garden: but Miss Belcher had allowed the Major to build a wall for privacy, on the far side of it, yet not so high as to shut off the sun from his bee-skeps; and had granted him a private entrance through it to the park a narrow wooden door approached by a miniature bridge across the stream.
"Oh, the streets don't amount to much in Cavendish. My name is Betsy Blake; just inquire for Dan'el Blake on the Mill Road; he works in Belcher's steam mill. Laws, how quick the time has gone! I thought for sure I'd be amost scart to death; and I've hardly once thought of getting smashed since I sot down here first; and now we're just into Cavendish."
One day at dinner Jennings spoke to his family. "I don't want any of you children ever to leave anything about the yard that he can stumble over. Mother, whenever you move a chicken coop, call him and show him where it is, hear?" They all agreed. Then Mac began to follow his master to the field and to Tom Belcher's store up the road.
He's a individual, an' so the courts have held him in spirit if not in actual words. Now this court of mine here in Tom Belcher's sto' ain't like other courts. I have to do the decidin' myself; I have to interpret the true spirit of the law without technicalities an' quibbles such as becloud it in other an' higher courts.
Ten minutes later two lads emerged with their books slung over their shoulders, and crossed toward them. "That's the boy the one on the left," said Mr. Belcher. At the same moment the lad looked up, and apparently saw the two faces watching him, for he quickened his pace. "That's Harry Benedict," exclaimed Mr. Belcher's son and heir. The words were hardly out of his mouth when Mr.
Taking him for a newsboy, he called; "Here, boy! Give me some papers." The lad had so shielded his face from the rain and the house that he had not seen Mr. Belcher; and when he looked up he turned pale, and simply said: "I'm not a newsboy;" and then he ran away as if he were frightened. There was something in the look that arrested Mr. Belcher's attention.
We're not welcome in the gambling-places any more. Last night I was not allowed to sit in the game at Belcher's." "You think Cleve has squealed?" queried Kells. "Yes." "I'll bet you every ounce of dust I've got that you're wrong," declared Kells. "A straight, square bet against anything you want to put up!" Kells's ringing voice was nothing if not convincing.
Belcher's name was not among the signatures of the officers. "Well, that beats me!" exclaimed Miss Butterworth. "What do you suppose the old snake wants now?" "That's just what I say just what I say," responded Mrs. Snow. Goodness knows, if it's worth anything, we need it; but what does he want?" "You'll find out some time. Take my word for it, he has a large axe to grind." "I think," said Mr.
Yates," said Mr. Balfour, "have you ever seen this letter before?" Yates took the letter, looked it over, and then said: "I have, sir. I found the letter in a drawer of the library-table, in Mr. Belcher's house at Sevenoaks. I delivered it unopened to the man to whom it was addressed, leaving him to decide the question as to whether it belonged to him or the writer.
She was an itinerant tailoress, and having worked, first and last, in nearly every family in the town, she knew the circumstances of them all, and knew too well the connection of Robert Belcher with their troubles and reverses. In Mr. Belcher's present condition of self-complacency and somnolency, she was not a welcome visitor.
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