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"Why, it's a mansion for sure!" exclaimed Miss Jinny, gazing with approval at the fine front of the tall, well-kept, brown-stone house. "I was so afraid you girls might be poked away in some stuffy street with never a tree or bit of sky to hearten you, but that park's most equal to the real country.","Yes, but we are all so different from the English. We have no pretty fair hair in Ireland, or at least very little of it.",My, oh my! All that money for a fishing rod, thought Johnny, still dancing gleefully around Grandmother. But all at once Grandmother started up eagerly and began to talk fast:,"I love Maurice. I intend to marry him," she repeated, and an obstinate expression came over her face.,“Well, fellows, what’d you do with yourselves while I was away? Must have been pretty tiresome up at the Canyon, wasn’t it?” It was Mr. Whitney talking. He had told them that his trip to Washington had been a great success. They had sent for him to put him in charge of finishing up the big Rio Grande project.,"If I were there enough to know the different girls, I'd know who it was without much trouble," she declared.,The boy—he is little more—cowers beneath her glance. He changes color, and drops the branch he holds. No excuse rises to his lips. To attempt a lie with those clear eyes upon him would be worse than useless. He turns abruptly away, and is dead to the Towers from this moment.,"Do you really think she killed him?" asked Lady Meg, her face growing pale with the intensity of her excitement.,“Why, Billy? I don’t believe in whipping unless all else fails.”,She was a little brig, and an immense but ragged British ensign fluttered at her trysail gaff-end. She had been painted black, but the fret of an ocean long kept, the hurl and whirl of prodigious seas which were like to founder her, the blistering heat of tropic suns,[Pg 352] the viewless fangs of the wind had so worn her sides that she was mottled with patches of different colour as though she was suffering from some distemper which ravaged vessels of her sort when the voyage was of great length. She rolled wearily, as though her old bones were worn out, and every time she hove her bilge to the eye she disclosed a very landed estate of weed, long, serpentine, trailing, like the huge eel-like growths which sway from black rocks in the white wash of breakers.,The church bells began to ring, ushering in the holy tide. Christmas Eve! Oh, he must hurry, hurry home!,"Twice; and both times I refused to part with it. Failing to get it honestly, he stole it.".