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You omitted to mention, for instance, whether Croesus 'the Halys crossed' should destroy his own or Cyrus's mighty realm. It might be either, so far as the oracle goes. Zeus. Apollo was angry with Croesus. When Croesus boiled that lamb and tortoise together in the cauldron, he was making trial of Apollo. Cyn. Gods ought not to be angry.
"Us-all mean to stand by you. I expect you-all ain't over-rich either, and we-all can help in a right practical way. What do you say, little Miss Cyn, to coming down to the factory and doing light work and getting mighty good pay?" A new horror shook Cynthia's pallid face; but Crothers met it with a laugh. "Don't take on without reason," he soothed.
And by and by oh! a long time perhaps when you are all mighty happy and safe, you must tell her all about it, Lans, and make her love me a little! Tell her it was all I could do. She will understand and be right glad." "And you little Cyn?" The words came in a groan. "I? oh! I reckon this is what God meant me to do, Lans. For this he brought me down The Way, and now he will let me go home!" Mrs.
And, besides, I'd like to see what this lovely furniture looks like without such quantities of dust all over it." "Good scheme, Cyn!" cried Joyce, instantly delighted with the new idea. "I'll tell you what! We'll come in here this afternoon with old clothes on, and have a regular house-cleaning! It can't hurt anything, I'm sure, for we won't disturb things at all.
"Aunt Ann, it is little Cyn! The tree by the smoke-house was struck, but we-all are safe." "I must be alone!" Then gropingly and tremblingly Ann Walden got upon her feet. "The letter," she panted, "the letter." "Here it is I found it on the floor where you fell." At the time Cynthia was too distressed to attach any importance to the matter, but she recalled the incident later. "Yes, yes!"
Then he drew her in, closed the door upon the world and, holding her before him by the shoulders, looked deep and searchingly into her eyes which met his unflinchingly and trustfully. "Thank God!" was all he said, but in that moment poor Lans Treadwell passed unscathed before his last judge. "How thin you are, little Cyn!" Sandy had drawn the big leather chair to the hearth and seated her in it.
Noiselessly he entered his study and stood for a moment revelling in the sight of the girl of his thoughts, materializing before his amazed eyes. He could hardly believe his senses; the day, the place, were bewitched, and he had been so hungry for just this! Unconsciously he stretched out his arms and his strong, dark face was flushed; his serious eyes glad and kind. "Little Cyn!"
In the North of England they are known as "Gabriel's Hounds"; in Devon as the "Wisk," "Yesk," "Yeth," or "Heath Hounds"; in Wales as the "Cwn Annwn" or "Cyn y Wybr"; in Cornwall as the "Devil and his Dandy-Dogs"; and in the neighbourhood of Leeds as the "Gabble Retchets." They are common all over the Continent.
"Married?" gasped Cynthia, as if the word were foreign; "married! me, little Cyn? Why, only women marry!" "And you are a woman, sweet!" Even then Lans did not touch her, though she looked more divine with her big eyes shining and the blessed smile parting her lips than he had ever seen her. "I a woman? Well, I reckon I am but it seems mighty queer when you first think of it.
Not a word was said in reference to it by either, but Cynthia noticed Joyce looking at her rather curiously several times. Finally she asked: "What are you staring at me so for, Joyce?" "Oh, nothing! I wasn't staring," Joyce replied, and began to talk of something else. "By the way, Cyn, why wouldn't it be a good idea to wait till next week before we have our illumination?
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