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"Go on making it, please," said Amabel; and she sat down and watched him. "Do you like this wood, Bogy?" she asked, softly, after a time. "I do, Miss," said Jan. "Why don't you sleep in it, then? I wouldn't sleep in a cellar, if I were you." "I don't sleep in a cellar, Miss." "Nurse SAYS you do," said Amabel, nodding emphatically.
Wounds or death by Mauser bullets, or even by the thrust of a lance, are not to be compared, from the point of view of their pain-inflicting possibilities, with what may be done in that way by the fragment of a shell. That's the thing that hurts. Shell fire, speaking generally, is the "Bogy of Battle" to those not accustomed to it. The main purpose it accomplishes is to "establish a funk."
No more signs of that old sea bogy, and like enough we shan't get a squint at it again." "I don't suppose we shall now, Joe." "Sleepy, sir?" "Not a bit, Joe. Here, I want to speak to you about that thing." "I am listening, sir. Talk away. Rather queer, warn't it, to come upon a thing like that just when you didn't expect it?" "Yes, Joe; and you said something about my not being frightened."
"You SAID Bogy lived in the cellar," said Amabel. Nurse was in a dilemma which deservedly besets people who tell untruths. She had to invent a second one to help out her first. "That's at night," said she: "he lives in the wood in the daytime." "Then I can go into the cellar in the day, and the wood at night," retorted Amabel; but in her heart she knew the latter was impossible.
That will do for the façade of Burlington House with its grimy gray statues, or the moss-encrusted tower of the Groote Kirk, but never here. It was this fear, perhaps, that kept me at work, haunted as I was by the bogy of "Rain to-morrow. It always comes, and keeps on for a month when it starts in." Blessed be the weather clerk!
What is it? Clammy hands reaching out from the grave to clutch at warm young flesh and pollute it? Not while there are living hands to beat them off!" He began to get vehement and warm. There was to be a chapter on heredity in that book of his, one day. "It's a bogy. It goes down before environment as the dark before the dawn.
Wallace rimmed the cup for a two, and both made threes, one stroke better than bogy. It was lightning golf. LaHume's face was a study. The fifth hole is 470 yards, and both were within easy chopping approach of the green on their second. Wallace had the worst of a bad kick, and Kirkaldy holed a thirty-foot putt for a par four, making him two up. LaHume smiled once again.
"I promised her to tell you if this day ever came, and now it is here and I oh!" she cried out passionately, "I can't tell you!" He grew pale himself, with fear of he knew not what. "You can, you will you must!" he said resolutely. "I am not a child to be frightened of a bogy. What terrible secret is there hidden behind all this?" "Terrible secret yes, that is it.
Hubert started: the "Old Man of the Mountain" he had often heard of him, but had thought him only a "bogy," invented by the credulous amongst the crusaders and pilgrims.
The River and Harbor bogy wove the pattern of Shelby's troubled dreams. In a way, he had grown, as he liked to think, and by this touchstone he knew it best. Whatever his practice, his quickened ideals were loftier than of old, and across the future's broader field, should it be his to till, the man was honestly ambitious to trace a straighter furrow than his ploughshare had ever turned.
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