पोकरबाजी

पोकरबाजी 104. ’Twixt Smile and Tear Poor Uncle Isaac! He was sick now again—worse, in fact. He had heart disease, Mother said. Jeremias the wood-cutter also talked of a pain in his heart, but since he had begun to rub himself all over with kerosene, he had become much better. It smelled dreadfully in Jeremias’s little hut, but he was better. Johnny Blossom would certainly write to Uncle Isaac and tell him that all he had to do to cure himself of the pain was to rub himself with kerosene.,Elinor sat looking at him with her eyes shining, and then she drew a quick breath.,"Be virtuous and you'll be happy, but you won't have a good time," quotes Violet; "you should take to heart that latest of copy-book texts.",Patricia looked after her with loving pride. "How pretty she is, and how clever," she thought tenderly. "And the best part of it is that she doesn't know what an adorable dear she is. I hope she gets an honorable mention, even if she can't hit the prize. She deserves a lot of good times, after all those lean years when she took such good care of us.",Then she and her two daughters quit the "coach," as Carson pere insist on calling the landau, and flutter through the halls, and across the corridors, after Mona, until they reach the room that contains Lady Rodney.，Miss Jinny, in her fine, last-season's dress, with the usual up-to-date hat on her scanty drab hair, and the twinkle of amusement at the continuous entertainment that life afforded her, was looking so well that Patricia voiced her wonder that she should have come to town for doctoring, as her letter had intimated.，"Yes, you do, too!" cried Judith ardently, flinging out a masterpiece. "You sound like a syncopated opera; doesn't she, Bruce?"，Scroggie nodded. "Drowned through an air-hole in the lake. Say, Billy, do you skate?""Yes,—in her own estimation," says the duchess, somewhat severely, whose crowning horror is a frisky matron, to which title little Mrs. Lennox may safely lay claim.

"The assassin--you know the assassin? Who is he or she?",“Not a bit,” said John. “It was the fault of the postmaster’s boys entirely. See what I’ve got.” And Johnny Blossom took his English boatswain’s whistle out and blew it, with beaming face.,“You may bring me the fishing rod,” said Father.,“A girl under foot all the time,” Shifty complained. He had no sister.,Emilia saw the time of madame's departure approach with increased distress. They left each other with a mutual sorrow, which did honour to their hearts. When her last friend was gone, Emilia wandered through the forsaken apartments, where she had been accustomed to converse with Julia, and to receive consolation and sympathy from her dear instructress, with a kind of anguish known only to those who have experienced a similar situation. Madame pursued her journey with a heavy heart. Separated from the objects of her fondest affections, and from the scenes and occupations for which long habit had formed claims upon her heart, she seemed without interest and without motive for exertion. The world appeared a wide and gloomy desert, where no heart welcomed her with kindness—no countenance brightened into smiles at her approach. It was many years since she quitted Calini—and in the interval, death had swept away the few friends she left there. The future presented a melancholy scene; but she had the retrospect of years spent in honorable endeavour and strict integrity, to cheer her heart and encouraged her hopes.,"All hunky. Now you move along, an' if you happen to meet Fatty Watland, er Maurice, er any other boys, don't you let on a word about this.",The floor itself is pale, nay, almost blue. A little snow is sifted lightly on branch, and grass, and ivied wall. Each object in the sleeping world is quite distinct.,"It's a scheme I've been thinking of for nearly a month now, and I've made all the arrangements before I came home; but if it doesn't appeal to you—well, there are no bones broken, and I can easily fix it up with Miss J—— that is, I can make other arrangements.","It is cruel," says Violet, with suppressed but ardent ire.,"No, no, indeed. You have behaved admirably where most women would have ignominiously failed. Let that thought console you. To have a perfect temper, such as yours, should be in itself a source of satisfaction. And now bathe your eyes, and make yourself look even prettier than usual. A difficult matter, isn't it?" with a friendly smile.,That night I did so many exercises that at last I sank exhausted in a chair in front of my mirror and put my head down on my arms and cried the real tears you cry when nobody is looking. I felt terribly old and ugly and dowdy and—widowed. It couldn't have been jealousy, for I just love that girl. I want most awfully to hug her very slimness, and it was more what she might think of poor dumpy me than what any man in Hillsboro, or Paris, could possibly feel on the subject, that hurt so hard. But then, looking back on it, I am afraid that jealousy sheds feathers every night so you won't know him in the morning, for something made me sit up suddenly with a spark in my eyes and reach out to the desk for my pencil and cheque-book. It took me more than an hour to reckon it all up, but I went to bed a happier, though in prospects a poorer woman.,"And where, pray, is Lucy?" said Miss Acton, in a voice querulous with alarm and other feelings, for Miss Acton was one of those old ladies who are always praising Providence for its blessings, but who are very willing to find calamity in trifles. "She is a long time gone. Who says that she breakfasted with the Jellybottles? And at what time did she leave the house? And if Mamie went with her why is she here?" she added, turning her eyes upon the little terrier..