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And we'll wire to Grosvenor Street for some cushions and rugs this is too hopeless. Are you quite comfortable Mawson?" "Yes, Miss. I 'ave me meals in the kitchen, Miss, for Miss Bathgate don't want to keep another fire goin'. A nice cosy kitchen it is, Miss." "Then I wish I could have my meals there, too." "Oh, Miss!" cried Mawson in horror. "Does Miss Bathgate talk to you, Mawson?"

Rogerson and Willett were there; Willett was seedy. Another Englishman named Hamilton, who had an umbrella which he had sworn to take back with him to England. Also two Austro-Serb boys who had been acting as interpreters. West and Mawson were not there. Rogerson said that Sir Ralph had sent them with Mrs. M to see the road and conditions at Mitrovitza; nobody knew when they would be back.

Helena rose from the grass, pausing to say as she turned towards the house: "We're going to dance in the drawing-room, Mawson says. They've cleared it." "Doesn't it look nice?" Helena assented. "Let me see " she added slowly "this is the third dance, isn't it, since I came?" "Yes the third."

And Esther Mawson, with a light laugh, threw the papers over the table, and hastily swept their price into her handbag. Mrs. Mallathorpe's nerves suddenly became steady. With a deep sigh she caught up the various documents and looked them quickly and thoroughly over.

She is 'andsome, don't you think?" "Terrible lang and lean," said Miss Bathgate. "But I'm no denyin' that there's a kind o' look aboot her that's no common. She would mak' a guid queen if we had ony need o' anither." "She makes a good mistress anyway," said loyal Mawson. "Oh, she's no bad," Bella admitted. "An' I must say she disna gie much trouble but it's an idle life for ony wumman.

The soil is light, so the work would be healthy and would not be too strenuous. The scheme has been worked out in detail, and an attractive description of it is given by Mr. Mawson. There are other places where reclaimed land or other land with light and suitable soil might be used for such nurseries.

Housewifely instincts revived in her. Her hands wanted to be doing. She had ventured to ask Fenn for some flowers, and would dare to arrange them herself if Mrs. Mawson would let her. Then, as she re-entered the house, she came back at a bound to reality. "If I can't keep Miss Pitstone out of mischief, I shan't be here a month!" she thought pitifully; and how was it to be done?

Besides the captain, only one trembling wretch remained. He clung frantically to the bulwarks, afraid of quitting his hold, and trusting himself to the cradle. "Come, Mr Mawson," exclaimed Captain Westerway, "I am hauling the cradle back for the last time, and if you do not go, before many minutes you will be carried off by the sea, and no power on earth can help you."

Mawson had fed her; and Lucy Friend was aghast to think how much her convalescence must be costing her employer in milk, eggs, butter, cream and chickens, when all such foods were still so frightfully, abominably dear.

Should he read this work, it may give him satisfaction to know, that his kindness, and his work on Christ as a revelation of the Eternal Father, had a part in helping me back to the religion of Christ. Five years ago last December, Mr. John Mawson, Sheriff of Newcastle-on-Tyne, was killed on the Town Moor by a terrible explosion of nitro-glycerine.