Gioi

Gioi By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the "Perfectly fine and dandy!" cried Patricia, glowing. "My word, but that Miss Green is severe! I never heard such silence as in that room. Why, an ordinary schoolroom is a perfect Babel compared to it.",Wilson averted his face and proceeded to straighten the towel on the roller. His action seemed to infuriate the woman.,"I no know, massa. She weep! She ill! She make terrible bobbery, dat poo' girl. Massa, come an' see my lil missy dis day.",“Getting a little interesting,” ventured Bob.,“It is John’s,” said Mother instantly and with the utmost certainty.，“I hear that you wish to sell your fishing rod so as to get money for Tellef’s grandmother,” said Father at the dinner table. “Very well, John. I will buy it and you shall run over to Sandy Point with the money this afternoon.”，They resumed their walk. When they had reached the bridge they found old Mr Greyquill, leaning over the rail, and gazing with intentness, with a sort of lifting leer which could not be defined as a smile, though it was like the shadow of one, in the direction of Old Harbour. This person was not used to address either of the gentlemen on meeting them in the public streets. They were accustomed to nod in silence. But this morning [Pg 175]as the Admiral and the Captain passed him, the Admiral so close as to brush his coat-tail, the old scrivener turned with a rapid motion and exclaimed, still preserving his singular leer: "I beg pardon, gentlemen, but as I fail to see the Minorca amongst the ships, may I enquire if she has sailed?"，He would lapse into silence, sucking his pipe, and watching Erie putting away the supper-dishes.But a second idea came that made him fidget about the room, lift his bandage and watch the children on their way to school. His record for attendance for the year had so far been perfect. He knew that he owed it partly to his mother’s tireless watch of the clock, and wondered why he had not realized this before. Now it was to be broken; she would be as sorry as he could be; and it would have counted well toward the prize. He tried to calculate how many days he could be absent and still have left some chance of it. The work was all reviewing, he almost knew it, anyway. If he only had his books,—but no, they wouldn’t let him use his eyes.

"He just uses his French to plot his dark plots with, Judy darlin'," she said, merrily. "You needn't try to make them out, for he doesn't intend you to.","Gillies! Did you see him?",First, he would try fishing far out over the flower beds with his rod. There! he had caught and broken off a big, dark red rose. The well was naturally a better place to fish. Johnny Blossom fished up the most incredible things from that well. He first threw them in, of course, and then it was a tremendous piece of work to get them out again—leaves, flowers, his own straw hat—yes, it was certainly an extra fine fishing rod. He would write at once to Uncle Isaac and thank him for it.,"It doesn't matter in the least what any one thinks on this subject," says Nicholas, with a slight frown, "I shall esteem it a very great honor if you will call me by my Christian name. And besides, Mona, I want you to try to care for me,—to love me, as I am your brother.","But what is to be done?" asks Nicholas, distractedly, though inexpressibly cheered by these professions of loyalty and devotion. "Your people won't hear of it.",“Oh, don’t be so pessimistic,” said Bob. “I bet we’ll come through alive and kicking. Shall we start in the morning?”,Doris shrank back with a low, horrified cry.,"She is waving her handkerchief!" cried the Admiral, with his eye at the telescope. "God bless her! God bless us all! What a miracle of discovery!",“Mebbe she’s all right,” admitted the boy.,"Pooh, I shan't mind how criss-cross he is," declared Patricia valiantly. "I'm only the rankest greenhorn, anyway. He can't expect me to be a Rodin.",One by one others got up and made their little offers. Cobin Keeler, a giant in stature, combed his flowing beard with his fingers and announced he'd bring along a load of green corn-fodder. Gamp Stevens promised three bags of potatoes. Joe Scraff, a little man with a thin voice, said he had some lumber that the fishermen might as well be using for their smoke-houses. Each of the others present offered to do his part, and then the men separated for their several homes.,"Well, Tom, I reckon it's none of our funeral whether it turns up or not," growled the other. "We're gettin' paid well fer what we're doin', ain't we? If it turns up, Scroggie and the boss'll have to do their own worryin'.".