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Kingthorpe. Oh! he should like less than ever to go there now. Never, never in the world would he enter that grand place again! Miss Melling and Carlstrom might have it all to themselves, for anything he cared. “You bet it was! Both right and plucky. I’m proud of you—” CHAPTER VII.
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Conrad
“Cut it out, kid,” said Jerry. Evidently Bob’s tone of determination had impressed him. Also the taunt about cold feet stung him. “I just wanted to make sure you wanted to go, that’s all. You’re taking a chance of never going back East again.” For that was just the way the trouble began. He had been walking on his tallest stilts the whole afternoon—the stilts that were exactly, to the dot, one yard fifteen inches and a half tall—and then had sat himself on the fence along the back alley. He was facing the yard, with his back toward the alley, and that disgusting Olsen boy came past and gave him a dig in the back with that sharp stick. Just think of it! Wouldn’t anybody say it was unbearable? The bunkhouses seemed deserted. If there were any Mexicans inside they were doing their best to play dead. The crowd seemed to think that the laborers were the ones who had started the trouble and they were shouting, daring the Greasers to come out and start something. But there was no answer from the inside. “They are asking for you, John,” said Lars. “The will is going to be read now, and we must all be in the library together, they say, to hear—right and proper—who shall be master of Kingthorpe after this.”.
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