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He was just snapping the speaker switch when he heard a growl of static in his earphones, and then Greg's voice, high-pitched and excited. "Over here! I think I've found something!" It took ten minutes of scrambling over the treacherous surface to reach Greg. Tom saw his brother tugging at a huge chunk of granite that was wedged into a crevice in the rock.
"You fellows simply must do something -do a lot," had been Hi's almost tearful urging as be addressed his fellows at the bench. It was Bill Rodgers who stood before him as Dick twirled the ball, awaiting Greg's signal, which came a second later -a drop ball. Bill swung for it, then looked foolish. Two more bad guesses, and he was out. A second man was soon out, and then a third.
At half-past three o'clock in the afternoon they tied up in bundles as much of the bark as each boy could carry, then started homeward. "We ought to get home in time for supper," Dick declared hopefully. It was about eight o'clock in the evening when they reached Greg's gate. The return was harder than they had expected.
Greg's chances, I need not remark, are superior to mine; he is always in port. If he wins, then I tell him " God bless you, my boy; you've won the finest woman, the handsomest, and the best, in or out of Christendom!" But my chance is my property, though it may be value only one farthing coin of the realm, and there is always pity for poor sinners in the female bosom.
Greg's retort, but as I have said or implied nothing more than that extravagant luxury is waste and contrasted with surrounding poverty grates on the feelings, especially when those who waste are idle and those who want are the hardest working labourers in the world, I repeat that I can see no force in the retort at all. Mr.
I think Greg's arm must have stopped hurting quite so badly, or else he was being tremendously spunky, because we talked a lot and I told him that Father would come for us pretty soon. I didn't feel at all sure of this, because I knew that Father would never have given up the Sea Monster the night before if he'd had any idea we were there.
"Dick Prescott hasn't lost any of his knack for surprises," muttered Danny. "And if we, who know his old tricks, can't fathom him at all, what are the other seven of us going to do?" As the ball arched slowly back into Dick's hands, Dalzell, in his anxiety, found himself leaping to his feet. And now Prescott pitched, in answer to Greg's signal, what looked like a coming jump ball.
There was a lesson for the Cassandra of a later day in the picture of Southey when Mrs. Fletcher took tea with him in 1833. Greg's case, have overcome one of his prepossessions. 'I don't like cotton manufacturers much, nor merchants over much. Cobden seems to be a good kind of fellow, but I wish he were not a cotton-spinner. I rather respect him. He is utterly desponding.
They played a thing called "Air Religieux" that I think none of us will ever hear again without thinking of the humming on the roof and the candles all around the room and one big one on the piano beside Aunt Ailsa, making her hair all shiny. Her hair is amberish, too, like Greg's, but her eyes are a very golden kind of brown, while his are dark blue.
We here see that before he was one-and-twenty years old, Greg was possessed by the conception that haunted him to the very end. When the people complain, their complaint savours of rebellion. Those who make themselves the mouthpieces of popular complaint must be wicked incendiaries. The privileged classes must be ordained by Nature to rule over the non-privileged. The few ought to direct and teach, the many to learn. That was Greg's theory of government from first to last. It was derived at this time, I suppose, from Burke, without the powerful correctives and indispensable supplements that are to be found in Burke's earlier writings. Some one said of De Tocqueville, who afterwards became Mr. Greg's friend, and who showed in a milder form the same fear of democracy, 'Il a commencé
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