"Poor David!" sighed Jen, thinking of the young man cut off in the bloom of his youth.,
Patricia and Elinor puckered their brows over it, but Miss Jinny, craning her head over their shoulders, gave a snort.,
"But," insisted Elinor, "we haven't anything——",
"Because I may fail," said Maurice. "Here, Uncle Jen, don't be cross; I'll tell you all about it to-morrow, and then you will see and approve of my silence to-night."
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"Time for bed, mama dear," she said clearly. "I've got your ginger tea ready for you, and I guess it's the last you'll want this year." In a lower tone she explained to the others: "Just brewed it to make her feel more at home, you know. She doesn't need it in this fiery furnace of a place.",
CHAPTER XVII. THE STORY OF THE NIGHT.,
"It wasn't on the bulletin board this afternoon," said a girl across the table, who had been listening to this last speech. "Tell us about it, Griffie dear. We're all dying to hear.",
Miss Jinny had a queer look, Patricia thought, as she turned hurriedly away with a murmured excuse about the tea table.
"Lover," I said as I knelt down by him in the dim old hall and put my arms around him as if to shield him from some blow I couldn't help being aimed at him, "you wouldn't mind much, would you, if just this time your Molly couldn't go with you? Your father is going to take good care of you and—and maybe bring you back to me some day."
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"Molly," she said with a deliciously young giggle, "Tom says you are to send him two guineas to spend getting the brass band to polish up before the six o'clock train, by which your Mr. Bennett comes. He has spent a guinea already to induce them to clean up their uniforms, and it cost him five pounds to bail the cornettist out of gaol for roost robbing. He says I am to tell you that, as this is your festivity, you ought at least to pay the piper. Hurry up, he's waiting for me, and here's the kiss he told me to put on your left ear!"
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Elinor paused in her hair brushing, and sank down on the stool, absently propping her chin on her brush.
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Across the lawn there crept a wizen, gray-haired little man, with a cringing manner. He was white, but darkish in the skin, and there was something negroid about his face. This dwarfish little creature was a tramp, who had become a pensioner of Isabella's. He had attached himself to her like some faithful dog, and rarely failed to present himself at least once a day.
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