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CHAPTER XXII. FOR THE DEFENSE.,"It is I,—Mona Scully," she calls aloud, when she is within a hundred yards of the hiding-place. "Tim Ryan, come here: I want you.",“A railroad goes to the job all right, Bob, but it’s meant for freight and a train runs only three times a week. The line was built by the Service and belongs to the Government. We’ve come the wrong day to catch that train.”,When the feasting was over, there was a call for silence. It came from Father, who stood again at the top of the marble steps and was evidently going to make a speech. All the children flocked together near the steps, in the sunshine, and hundreds of childish faces were upturned towards the speaker. Behind Father, on the veranda, at the windows, and in the doorways stood John’s aged friends, among them Katrina in her bright red dress and Jeremias the wood-cutter in the mayor’s light coat that was altogether too small for him. Jeremias had been to the Kingthorpe woodshed the first thing, for there was something he understood; but now he had stationed himself behind Father. The crippled child sat on the lowest step, his pockets stuffed full of plums.,Violet looks at her criticizingly, then she smiles, and, placing her hand beneath Mrs. Geoffrey's chin, turns her face more to the fading light.,It was a world of silence, a world bathed in golden haze, that Stanhope gazed upon with the restoration of his sight. A long time his eyes dwelt upon the vista before him, with its naked trees piercing the mauve-line of morning mist shimmering above the yellow wood-smoke. The girl beside him knew from the tightening hand on hers and the awe that paled his quivering face that the silence spoke a thankfulness which mere words could never express. So she waited, and after a long time he turned slowly and holding her at arm's length, smiled down into her eyes.,Another moment and he was outside beside Lou, bag and box in his arms. Croaker was nowhere to be seen; neither was the gold piece which he had dropped in his amazement at sight of Billy and Lou.,"Who?",Once again on the piazza Jerry said, “What is it?”,"Your description is graphic," he answers, lightly, "if faintly unkind; but when is the truth civil? You are right. Younger sons, as a rule, are not run after. Mammas do not hanker after them, or give them their reserve smiles, or pull their skirts aside to make room for them upon small ottomans.",A certain wide lawn, starred with white clover and daisies came unwelcome to his mind. He ought that moment to be chopping off clover tops.,"I would go to the world's end with you," returns she, gently. "Ah! I think you knew that all along.".