Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
“Murder! Murder!” he shouted with all his strength; and his boy’s voice reached far up and down the lonely distances. In the Crump household, Clarence stood for all that was brilliant and intellectual, while Isobel stood for all that was fairy-like and charming. Moses felt himself a cipher, of no account whatever, in this wonderful home. He would need an extra administration of sympathy from Betty on his return. He thought at that moment very tenderly of the great brown eyes that “looked like they loved everybody.” “But you don’t feel so now, my son. Jimmy will soon be well; you, too. Then you can talk with him about it. Rest, now; that is your first duty,” she comforted, and left him..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"Grandmother, what large eyes you have!"I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
Here she was again.
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
Clarence brought out his high-school books to display before the simple country boy the profundity of his learning. He opened his “Euclid” and Moses, sitting at the table, was vastly impressed with the sight of angles and triangles, and rash but interesting statements about abc being equal to bed. His attitude toward Clarence became one of utter abasement as that budding Archimedes produced his exercise book covered with squat-shaped triangles gleefully pursuing circles whose rims were horribly mangled by reason of defective compasses. “But I don’t like them to do that, Billy. They ought to stay dead till the play is done. When I see them smiling I feel as if—just as I would if you made fun of me when I cried for my mama,—it takes all the true out of the play.” “Yes, when you and sister turn gray getting it out of me. No, I’m going to do real work that will earn money; and I’m going to take this never-get-enough grub-basket of mine to a table where my own hands have earned the grub.” “Say, little kid, what’s your name?” he asked, merrily, as he routed a great white cat from his own chair and placed it before the fire for the child..
298 people found this
review helpful