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The steamer stood up the Leck, and turned into the Merwe, which is a branch five or six miles in length, connecting the Leck and the Waal. On each side was a dike, of course; but the view from the steamer showed only an ordinary bank. The top of it was broad, and occasionally there was a neat cottage or a little inn upon the top of it.
Looking about for a confederate, his attention was drawn to a boy of sixteen who was sawing wood in front of a humble cottage half a mile from the village. "I see you know how to work," said Dick Ranney, affably, as he leaned carelessly against the fence. "I know how, but I don't like it," answered the boy, pausing in his task. "I don't blame you. I don't like that kind of work myself."
The American flag had been floating in honour of her mother's brother, who had come over from Milwaukee to make them a little visit, and had just left that afternoon to sail from Liverpool. The rest of the family lived, during the three summer months, in a smaller house down the road; but she herself always stayed at the cottage, to 'mind' the Belfast lady's children.
It seemed almost incredible. And why had no one written to him? Still he remembered the address of his child's foster-mother. It was Ashwood Cottage; and he went thither at once. When he found that too closed and deserted, it seemed to him that fortune was playing him a trick.
Understand this, however: the array of evidence that you were feloniously inside Colonel Maynard's quarters that night and at his cottage window last night is of such a character that a court would convict you unless your alibi was conclusive. Leave the service you certainly shall, unless this whole thing is cleared up."
Patsy's stiff face as he repelled the gossips was a sight to see. He had also to keep at bay many questions about Susan Horridge and her boy, in doing which he showed some asperity and thereby gave a handle to the gossips. "I should have thought the cottage by the waterfall a damp place," said Sir Shawn, indifferently. He was not much interested in the petty happenings of the neighbourhood.
Leading the world as she does in this, her art products are sought by every land and every people. The nations must and will have them; and so, with an assured market, her industries prosper, and there is content in the cottage and wealth in the country at large.
Man still lives with the land in neighborly friendship united, And round his sheltering roof calmly repose still his fields; Trustingly climbs the vine high over the low-reaching window, While round the cottage the tree circles its far-stretching boughs. Happy race of the plain!
There was a schoolboy in the Late Miss M^cGregor's Cottage, home from the holidays, and much in want of "something craggy to break his mind upon." He had no thought of literature; it was the art of Raphael that received his fleeting suffrages; and with the aid of pen and ink and a shilling box of watercolours, he had soon turned one of the rooms into a picture-gallery.
He entered his own cottage, hardly knowing what he did. Old Aimée was bending over the cauldron, cutting up cabbage for the soup. "Good-bye, Grandmother," he said. "I am going to the Dwarf's Valley." Aimée looked up at him out of her keen old eyes. "And why are you going there in the dark?" she said, "'Tis an evil meeting place after the sun has set."
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