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He had given the above description of the enmity between the town’s-people and the soldiers, in order to prepare the minds of his auditors for a very terrible event. It was one that did more to heighten the quarrel between England and America, than any thing that had yet occurred. Without further preface, Grandfather began the story of It was now the 3d of March, 1770.
But avengers don't always turn up, in real life, when they ought to, girls; so we mustn't be too sure that one turned up in this case." "But now else can you account for the captain's murder?" objected Louise. "Well, some one else might know he had money, and that Ethel's grandfather had money, too," was the reply.
He took her hand: "Sir William Wallace," said he, "this sweet child is the youngest daughter of the brave Mar, who died in the field of glory on the Carron. Her grandfather, the stalwart knight of Thirlestane, fell a few weeks ago, defending his castle, and I am almost all that is left to her, though she has, or had a sister, of whom we can learn no tidings."
After that the butcher went away, then the carpenter, and finally the grocery-store was shut up and deserted by the man whose father and grandfather had kept store in the same building for sixty years. It was the old story. He had a large family of children who needed education and "a chance."
Her grandfather had left a coarse towel hanging up for her near the tub, and with this she had so thoroughly scrubbed her face, arms, and neck, for fear of the sun, that as she stood there she was as red all over as a lobster. He gave a little laugh. "No, there is nothing for him to laugh at now," he assured her.
There was at that time in Kirkcaldy one Tobit Balmutto, a horse-setter, of whom my grandfather had some knowledge by report.
He was in evening dress, his legs wrapped tightly in rugs; his chair was wheeled by a servant who was evidently perfectly trained in all the Trojan ways of propriety and decorum. "Well, grandfather," said Robin, turning back from the window with the look of annoyance still on his face, "how are you to-night?"
"Wouldn't some other day suit you just as well?" But Mr. Meadow Mouse reminded him that a promise was a promise. "Well, then can't you squeeze in beside me?" Grandfather Mole asked him. But Mr. Meadow Mouse said that he didn't see how he could do that. "Now that it rains there's no more room under your umbrella than there was a few moments ago, when the sun was shining."
Nell found in the lady of the caravan a kind and considerate person, who had not only a peculiar relish for being comfortable herself, but for making everybody about her comfortable also. But the child noticed that her grandfather grew more and more listless and vacant, and soon a greater sorrow was to come.
She had complained to no one. Her old grandfather knew her griefs, but he also knew that it was a subject he could not offer her consolation upon.
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