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Updated: June 23, 2025
For truly, my mind had been so strained and racked that I don't know as it would have surprized me if Josiah Allen had riz up, and knocked me down. "Wall, in politics, you have to add a few orts sometimes." I sithed, not a wonderin' sithe, but a despairin' one; and he went on, "I know where I shall get a hull lot of votes, anyway." "Where?" says I.
You'd not have me break faith with a lady?" "You are a lecherous rascal, Simon. But do as you are bid and I indulge you. I am not afraid of your going to Harry Heleigh after performing the ceremony. Nay, my lad, for you are thereby particeps criminis. You will pass Mr. Orts, Punshon, to the embraces of his whore. Nobody else." Simon Orts waved his hand toward Lady Allonby.
Then he sat down and ate and drank, now and then throwing him a morsel of his orts and emptying the dregs of the cup over him, till the morning, when he rose and laid by the tray and the dress and conjured over the bear, which followed him to the shop.
Rokesle laughed, genially, for the notion amused him. "Wine is a mocker, Simon. But come, despatch, Parson Tosspot, and let's have no more of these lofty sentiments." "I cannot do it. I O my Lord, my Lord! You wouldn't kill an unarmed man!" Simon Orts whined, with a sudden alteration of tone; for Lord Rokesle had composedly drawn his sword, and its point was now not far from the Vicar's breast.
He had a strong suspicion that Richard had learned the watchword from his mother, who, like most people desirous of a reputation for superior knowledge, was always looking out for scraps and orts of peculiar information.
Morfit has retired to her apartments with one of her usual headaches, so that I have been alone these two hours. You visit Stornoway somewhat late, Mr. Orts," Anastasia Allonby added, without any particular concealment of the fact that she considered his doing so a nuisance. He jerked his thumb ceilingward. "The cloth is at any rascal's beck and call.
Every man can rule an ill wife, but he that hes Her. Eaten meat is good to pay. Eild wald have Honour. Evening Orts is good morning-fother. Every man wisheth the water to his own milne. Early maister, lang knave. Every land hes his lauch, and every corne hes the caff. Eat and drink measurely, and defie the mediciners. Every man for Himself, quoth the mertine. Efter delay comes a Let.
And besides, Rokesle can twist his sister about his little finger, as the phrase runs. And I find sentinels at the door! I don't like it, Anastasia. In his way Rokesle loves you; more than that, you are an ideal match to retrieve his battered fortunes; and the name of my worthy patron, I regret to say, is not likely ever to embellish the Calendar of Saints." Simon Orts paused with a short laugh.
And my Lord, as he told me but on Thursday afternoon, hung it there that he might always have in mind the fact that he bore the name of this man, and must bear it meritoriously. My Lord is a gentleman. La, believe me, if you, too, were a gentleman, Mr. Orts, you would understand!
Day after day they come and burrow for orts among the dust-heaps, or brood motionless in the sunshine, or trace cabalistic signs with their fingers in the sand the future, they tell you, can be unriddled out of its cascade-like movements.
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