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If they learned in after years that the spelling-books knew nought of a k or a w in squirrel, and some of them never did! we may be very sure that it was not Simon Amberley that fell in their estimation!
"Simon is my calf, you know," Amberley went on. "Here, Simon, come along." Simon Jr., was already approaching, with an eye to business, and even as his master spoke, he had got his nose into a certain wide, baggy pocket in the old army trousers, and was poking it about in very familiar fashion. "Wait a minute, Simon," said Amberley, drawing himself gently away.
Waiting for word from the agent, Huntly, Inspector Fyles had retreated to the insignificant wooden shack which served the police as a Town Station in Amberley. It consisted of two rooms and a loft in the pitch of the roof.
Now Simon Amberley was slow to anger; indeed it may be doubted whether he had ever in all his life before been thoroughly roused; and perhaps for that very reason, the surging flood of indignation, so new to his experience, seemed to him like a call from heaven.
That's why I've started talking now with the horses waiting saddled." Bill nodded. "I was desperate sore," he said, his blue eyes coming back to the other's face. "You see, I couldn't think right at first, back there in Amberley, and I blamed you to death. Still, I've done a big think since then. Yes, a huge big think. And do you know I'm kind of sure now Charlie was just glad to do what he did."
Amberley Royal station being five miles away, and putting in of horses a matter of time, Wilton had told Howard, the immaculate butler, to signal the next train to stop; and Howard, who was more of a man of resource than his master gave him credit for, had, with the red flag of the ninth hole of the links which crossed the bottom of the lawn, signalled vehemently to the first down-train; and it had stopped.
Oh, but life had grown a wonderful thing to little Eliza, when she trotted down the hillside, clinging to the fingers of her new friend, and holding the sturdy little daisy in the other sturdy little hand. And life had grown even more wonderful to Simon Amberley.
Amberley asked casually, as they strung a handful of painter's-brush into a garland, which it was thought might prove becoming to Simon Jr.'s complexion. "Yes," said Eliza. "More than once?" "Yes." "Where did he hit you last time?" "Here." And Eliza pulled up the blue calico sleeve, and displayed a pretty bad bruise on the arm. Simon paused a moment in his cross-examination.
The truth was, in summer, anyway, he had no duties that could seriously claim him. Thus the long summer days were spent chiefly among his vegetables, and the bits of flowers at the back of the shanty, which was at once his home and his office, in short, White Point. Jack Huntly at Amberley grumbled at the unenlivening conditions of his existence, but compared with those of Mr.
He took me in to dinner at Amberley House last night, and we talked about you." "I had a letter from Sir Michael a few days ago," I answered. "He made a proposition to me and asked me to call and see him." Something in my voice, I suppose, betrayed my feelings. She laid her hand upon my arm. "Mr. Ducaine," she said, "I do hope that you mean to be reasonable. Sir Michael is a dear old man."
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