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“About six hours on the train,” was the answer. “We ought to be able to find a boat when we get there. If we’re going to do it at all we’ve got to start in a hurry. Otherwise we won’t be back here when the Chief’s telegram is due. That is,” he added, “if we live to get the Chief’s telegram.”,

The King said to his brother "If the King of the Peacocks is a peacock himself, how can our sister marry him? it would be folly to consent to such a thing, and it would be a fine thing for us to have little peacocks for nephews." The Prince was equally disturbed at the thought. "It is an unhappy fancy she has taken into her head," he said. "I cannot think what led her to imagine that there was such a person in the world as the King of the Peacocks.",

Taylor had flushed at Mr. Whitney’s words of confidence. It was easy to see that he would probably always be an assistant, never a full-fledged chief. He was the kind of man who could execute orders perfectly but when left with the responsibility of making decisions for himself, was likely to become flustered and upset. He took refuge in the inquiry about the boys.,

“Hold on, Bob. I want to speak to you.”

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Soon he was in the grounds again, but he did not hurry, nor did he give one thought to the cross mastiff. Every now and then he opened his hand to look at the two silver pieces. To think that he really had two half-dollars! He could get himself extra good fishing tackle for that much money—far better than William Holm’s even. Yes, as Uncle Isaac had said, there was always something you wanted to buy for yourself. What was that other thing Uncle Isaac had said? The man with the most love in his heart was the greatest? He who was kind was greater than he who was strong?,

THE BENEVOLENT FROG,

She revived, but on observing the marquis, screamed and relapsed. He hastened to the castle for assistance, inventing, to conceal his disgrace, some pretence for her sudden illness, and she was conveyed to her chamber.,

Finally it got too much for Bob and one day, taking his courage in both hands, he blurted forth, “Say, Whisk—Mr. Whitney, what’s gone wrong? Is it anything money won’t cure?” He held his breath awaiting the answer. It was a cheeky, nervy thing to do and if his boss did not take it the right way, he would be perfectly justified in sending him back to the horrible punishment of the draughting room. But he need not have worried. Mr. Whitney was too much of a big boy himself and had too much understanding not to realize that the question had been asked because anything that troubled him meant so much to the boy.