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Updated: June 12, 2025
There was no monastery, not even a plan of one. William FitzJohn and his clayey serfs scowled upon the shivering interlopers, uncertain what injustice might be done to them and to their fathers' homes, in sacrifices to the ghost of St. Thomas. Witham is a sort of glorified soup-plate, still bearing traces of its old Selwood Forest origin, for the woodlands ring round it.
"There's always trouble when you're around. Tim Reardon, you keep away from here, do you understand?" "Yes sir," replied Tim Reardon, wringing his own wet clothes; and then added, with a twinkle in his eyes, "but ain't you going to show us those medals, Colonel Witham?" It was lucky for Tim Reardon that he was fleet of foot.
He remained, however, a loyal subject of the Queen, and prayed for as speedy a sight of Boxton Park, Witham, Essex, as fortune would permit. And in the meantime he enjoyed such makeshift pleasures as came his way. Among these was that of leaving his card at several good houses the card of Arthur Gerald Scodd-Paston. People met him at functions as Mr.
You didn't go down to town, as I did twenty odd years ago, with eight thousand dollars, and come back cleaned out. You didn't invest in mines and things they said were good as gold, and have 'em turn out rubbish. You didn't lose a fortune and have to start all over again. But you know em, eh?" Colonel Witham nodded assent, and added mentally, "Yes, and I know you, too.
And now and then, pausing in the midst of his searching, the new owner might have been heard to exclaim, "Well, if I can't find them, nobody else can. That's sure." But Colonel Witham did not discontinue his searching. And the mill gave up no secrets. Mill stream, coming down from afar up the country, on its way to Samoset river and bay, flowed in many moods.
"Hello, Tim," said his captor, good naturedly, "going to join the circus?" Little Tim grinned, sheepishly. "Guess not, Jack," he replied. "Say, wouldn't you like to see that tiger eat up a keeper?" Jack Harvey laughed, setting Tim on his feet again. "I'll bet that tiger isn't as great a man-eater as old Witham," he said.
In front of the church, not more than twenty yards off, and with a low brick wall between, flows the river Witham. On the hither bank a fisherman was washing his boat; and another skiff, with her sail lazily half twisted, lay on the opposite strand.
Give it to me, or I'll have the law on you." "There were some papers, too," continued Henry Burns. Colonel Witham staggered again. The hand that held his pipe shook. Then his eyes twinkled craftily. "Well, you're right smart boys," he said. "Keep the money, if you want it, or give it to John Ellison. Yes, it was Jim Ellison's the money was. But the papers are mine. Have you got them?
Henry Burns, who had been walking close by, but who had been not greatly interested up to this point, had suddenly interrupted. "What did Witham want?" he repeated. Little Tim repeated the fortune-teller's words. Henry Burns, hurrying ahead to where the others were walking, caught John Ellison by an arm and drew him away. "Come back here a minute," he said.
Besides Addison, Halstead and me, the old Squire had the two hired men, Jim and Asa Doane, to help him; and sometimes Elder Witham, who was quite as good with a scythe as with a sermon, worked for us a few days.
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