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"No doubt, Anne, it's ordered for the best; but oh! don't call him, don't think he could ever ha' been, a trouble to his mother, though he were a cripple. She loved him all the more for each thing she had to do for him I am sure I did." Libbie cried a little behind her apron. Anne Dixon felt still more awkward in introducing the discordant subject. "Well!
As has been told, Mrs. Dixon spoke of him in connection with "judgments," and the younger ladies did not exactly cultivate his acquaintance. Theoretically they "adored" books and thought poetry "too sweet," but in practice they preferred talking about mares and fox-terriers and their neighbors.
So Ellinor danced out into the garden, worked away among her flowers, played at the old games among the roots of the trees, and, when she could, seduced Dixon into the flower-garden to have a little consultation as to the horses and dogs.
Father Dixon, the guide who was attached to Captain Iles's company of mounted rangers, remarks that in their marches when scouts were sent forward to examine thickets and ravines in which it was thought the enemy might be lurking it often became necessary for many of the men to dismount and attend to their riding gear.
Wilkins did not seem to hear; in fact, he did not hear anything but the unspoken echo of his own last words, that went booming through his heart: "An hour ago I was innocent of this man's blood! Only an hour ago!" Dixon got up and poured out half a tumblerful of raw spirit from the brandy-bottle that stood on the table. "Drink this, Master Ned!" putting it to his master's lips.
I could have cried to think I couldn't spite him better, for he kept smiling in my face, as if he took all my compliments for earnest; and I couldn't see that he minded what I said in the least, while I was mad with all his speeches. 'But you did not tell him anything about us about Frederick? 'Not I, said Dixon.
Before taking leave of these and other equally bizarre products of the "great laboratory," we must mention the sect of the Napoleonites, some few members of which were still to be found recently in Southern Russia. William Hepworth Dixon, who visited the country in 1870, claims to have met some in Moscow, and according to him they were then rapidly increasing in numbers.
His reason told him that the ill-fortune could not last; he had one great little mare, good enough to win, an honest trainer there the inventory stopped short; his stock in trade was incomplete he had not a trusty jockey. In his dilemma he threshed it out with Dixon. "How's the mare doing, Andy?" he asked. "What did the race do to her?"
Then she examined herself critically in the glass. The mirror declared she was a passable counterfeit of her brother; all but the glorious crown of luxuriant hair. Perhaps she had better leave it as it was until she had met with the approval of Dixon the terrible sacrifice might be for nothing. She wavered only for an instant no half measure would do. "In for a penny, in for a pound."
He broke off, pointed bluntly to the munched pulp of the fig, and said loudly: I allude to that. Um, Cranly said as before. Do you intend that now, the squat student said, as IPSO FACTO or, let us say, as so to speak? Dixon turned aside from his group, saying: Goggins was waiting for you, Glynn. He has gone round to the Adelphi to look for you and Moynihan.
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