Sir Gibbie (Classic Reprint)
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| Partner: | buecher.de |
| Hersteller: | Forgotten Books (Donald, George Mac) |
| Stand: | 2015-08-04 03:50:33 |
Produktbeschreibung
Excerpt from Sir Gibbie Whatever was at the heart of that expression, it was something that enticed question and might want investigation. The face as well as the eyes was lovely - not very clean, and not too regular for hope of a fine development, but chiefly remarkable from a general effect of something I can only call luminosity. The hair, which stuck out from his head in every direction, like a round fur cap, would have been of the red-gold kind, had it not been sunburned into a sort of human hay. An odd creature altogether the child appeared, as, shaking the gutter-drops from his little dirty hands, he gazed from his bare knees on the curbstone at the woman of robuke. It was but for a moment. The next he was down, raking in the gutter again. Tho woman looked angry, and took a step forward; but the sound of a sharp imperative little bell behind her, made her turn at once, and re-enter the shop from which she had just issued, following a man whose pushing the door wider had set the bell ringing. Above the door was a small board, nearly square, upon which was painted in lead-colour on a black ground the words, "Licensed to sell beer, spirits, and tobacco to be drunk on the premises." There was no other sign. "Them ´at likes my whusky ´ill no aye be speerin´ my name," said Mistress Croale. As the day went on she would have more and more customers, and in the evening on to midnight, her parlour would be well filled. Then she would be always at hand, and the spring of the bell would be turned aside from the impact of the opening door. Now the bell was needful to recall her from house affairs. "The likin´ ´at cratura his for clean dirt! lie´s been at it this halo half-hoor!" she murmured to herself as she poured from a black bottle into a pewter measure a gill of whisky for the pale-faced toper who stood on the other sido of tho counter: far gone in consumption, he could not get through the forenoon without his morning. "I wad like," she went on, as she replaced the bottle without having spoken a word to her customer, whoso departure was now announced with the same boisterous alacrity as his arrival by the shrill-toned bell - "I wad like, for´s father´s sake, honest man I to thraw Gibbie´s lug. That likin´ for dirt I canna fathom nor bide." Meantime the boy´s attention seemed entirely absorbed in the gutter. Whatever vehicle passed before him, whatever footsteps behind, he never lifted his head, but went creeping slowly on his knees along the curb still searching down the flow of the sluggish, nearly motionless current. It was a grey morning towards the close of autumn. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
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