| Author: | Edward Dyson | ISBN: | 1230000157232 |
| Publisher: | WDS Publishing | Publication: | August 3, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Edward Dyson |
| ISBN: | 1230000157232 |
| Publisher: | WDS Publishing |
| Publication: | August 3, 2013 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
IT was Monday morning. Benno loitered at the packer's bench. The clerk
was possessed with a great unrest, and his high stool could not hold him
today.
"She's er little boshter!" he said vehemently. "Y' orter seen 'er."
"Fair 'r dark?" asked Feathers, with the intention of showing a friendly
interest in the matter. This was the fifth time Benno had declaimed on
the "boshter" qualities of the unknown, and fraternal sympathy could not
be longer deferred with decency. Feathers delayed the completion of a
knot, and bit off a morsel of tobacco. He solaced business hours with an
occasional quid, smoking on the premises being strictly prohibited by
order of the Czar below.
"Fair," replied Benno, with rapture, "with bloo eyes, 'n' er mouth like
er bloomin' baby. Never saw anythin' like it. She's ther show biscuit,
take it from ther man in ther business--ther top apple, th' 'ole
blessed cake-walk, 'n' straight ez er church. Yeh can see it stickin'
out. Bin well brought up, yeh know--bit shy, 'n' romantic, 'n' all
that."
"This gentle little maiden of today," sang Goudy, the town traveller, to
himself, absently, as he reached for twenty-eight of sixes.
"Ah-h-h go'n 'ave er scratch!" retorted the clerk, bitterly. The town
traveller was a Scot, but the insult had no sting for him; he went on
cheerfully sorting out his order. "Some men," said Benno, with cold
despair, "ain't got no more fine feelin' than a hotel cat."
"When she left the village she was shy," hummed the town traveller,
changing his tune.
IT was Monday morning. Benno loitered at the packer's bench. The clerk
was possessed with a great unrest, and his high stool could not hold him
today.
"She's er little boshter!" he said vehemently. "Y' orter seen 'er."
"Fair 'r dark?" asked Feathers, with the intention of showing a friendly
interest in the matter. This was the fifth time Benno had declaimed on
the "boshter" qualities of the unknown, and fraternal sympathy could not
be longer deferred with decency. Feathers delayed the completion of a
knot, and bit off a morsel of tobacco. He solaced business hours with an
occasional quid, smoking on the premises being strictly prohibited by
order of the Czar below.
"Fair," replied Benno, with rapture, "with bloo eyes, 'n' er mouth like
er bloomin' baby. Never saw anythin' like it. She's ther show biscuit,
take it from ther man in ther business--ther top apple, th' 'ole
blessed cake-walk, 'n' straight ez er church. Yeh can see it stickin'
out. Bin well brought up, yeh know--bit shy, 'n' romantic, 'n' all
that."
"This gentle little maiden of today," sang Goudy, the town traveller, to
himself, absently, as he reached for twenty-eight of sixes.
"Ah-h-h go'n 'ave er scratch!" retorted the clerk, bitterly. The town
traveller was a Scot, but the insult had no sting for him; he went on
cheerfully sorting out his order. "Some men," said Benno, with cold
despair, "ain't got no more fine feelin' than a hotel cat."
"When she left the village she was shy," hummed the town traveller,
changing his tune.
