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"I should like to tell 'im a story, Jock," says the Corporal to his other neighbour. "My job is on a hospital train. 'Alf-a-dozen 'Un aeroplanes made a raid behind our lines; and seeing a beautiful Red Cross train it was a new London and North Western train, chocolate and white, with red crosses as plain as could be well, they simply couldn't resist such a target as that!
He hain't be'n eddicated a great deal, but I wouldn't be afeard to warrant he'd make a racket in the world some of these days." "Jock Hallowell!" cried Cynthia, the gray beginning to dance, "I suppose you think Jethro's going to be President." "All right," said Jock, "you can laugh. Ever talked with Jethro?" "I've hardly spoken two words to him in my life," she replied.
The crew whoever they might be had decided to leave no further doubt of their intentions. They had opened hostilities and to them had fallen first blood. With serious faces and guns held ready for an attack the three lads turned toward home, driving the scared flock before them. Old Jock, stiff and limping from his wound, brought up the rear.
"There'd be no getting in to act the midnight ghost," said Allen. "No," said Jock; "but one could hide in the big rhododendron in the wolf-skin rug, and jump out on him in his chair." In Allen's railway rug, Jock rehearsed the scene, and was imitated if not surpassed by both cousins; but Allen and Bobus declared that it could not be carried out in the daylight.
After the ladies had risen, the consul with an instinct of sympathy was moving up towards "Jock" MacSpadden, who sat nearer the host, when he was stopped midway of the table by the dignitary who had sat opposite to Mrs. MacSpadden.
Graham picked him up and made for home. On the top of the cliff he stopped to rest, where, upon being put down Jock opened his eyes, when Graham rubbed him, and before long he came round and seemed quite himself again. Saturday, August 24. This has been an exciting day. I was baking bread when there came a quick tap at the passage window. Mrs.
'Let him gang, jock, said another voice. 'Ye ken what a man's like when he's been on the bash. The cauld air'll sober him. I was released, and after some gymnastics dropped on the metals and made my way round the rear of the train. As I clambered on the platform it began to move, and a face looked out of one of the back carriages. It was Linklater and he recognized me.
He did it very well, and the Mhor as the Mob supplied appropriate growls at intervals; indeed, so much did Antony's eloquence inspire Mhor that, when Jock shouted, "Light the pyre!" Immediately all was confusion. "Mhor!" shouted Jean, as she sprang towards the stage. "Gosh, Maggie!"
"Say," he began, his tone venomous, "do you know what those those those " "Say it!" commanded Emma McChesney. "I'm only your mother. If you keep that in your system your breakfast will curdle in your stomach." Jock McChesney said it. I know no phrase better fitted to describe his tone than that old favorite of the erotic novelties. It was vibrant with passion. It breathed bitterness.
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