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Here, have a cigarette on me." And Holmes politely proffered to the chef his silver cigarette case, the one that the Sultan of Zanzibar had given him three years before as a reward on a certain case. La Violette swelled up like a pouter pigeon on hearing this taffy from the great detective, and bowed profoundly, his black eyes gleaming, as he took a cigarette and lit it. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes.
"But it was unfair!" she broke out. "It ought to have been the convict-child that was saved." "If so, I shouldn't be here," said George; "and it's not very nice of you to say it." "I don't care. It was unfair; and anyone but a boy " with scorn " would see it." She turned upon the staring Taffy "I hate your tale; it was horrid."
One day George rode over with two pairs of boxing-gloves dangling from his saddle. After lessons he and Taffy had a try with them, in a clearing behind the shrubberies where the gardener had heaped his sweepings of dry leaves to rot down for manure. "But, look here," said George, after the first round; "you'll never learn if you hit so wild as that.
But the rider, now standing high for a moment against the sky-line, went plodding on. For a while horse and man disappeared over the rise; but Taffy guessed that on hitting the cross-path beyond it they would strike away to the left and descend toward Langona Creek; and he began to slant his course to the left in anticipation.
Taffy kept them at bay as best he could and waved his letter at a wall-eyed man in a dirty yellow waistcoat, who looked down from the doorstep but did not offer to call them off. "Any answer?" asked the wall-eyed man. Taffy could not say. The man took the letter and went to inquire, leaving him alone with the dogs.
She even doubted, and Taffy doubted too, if Lizzie herself knew such an accusation had been made. Certainly never by word or look had Lizzie hinted at it. Yet Humility could not find it in her heart to forgive her. "She may be innocent," was the thought; "but through her came the injury to my son." Taffy by this time had no doubt at all.
Taffy wondered if Sir Harry's search for a horse had anything to do with this revenge, and the notion haunted him in the intervals of his morning's shopping. But how to lay out his sovereign? That was the first question. George, who within ten minutes had settled his own problem by purchasing a doubtful fox-terrier of the Boots of the hotel, saw no difficulty.
I don't want bedtime coming a whole half-hour before it ought to." In the afternoon, when Aunt Janet was over at Uncle Roger's, seeing him and Aunt Olivia off to town, the clock was righted. The Story Girl and Peter came over to stay all night with us, and we made taffy in the kitchen, which the grown-ups kindly gave over to us for that purpose.
At the end of another hour the pair broke off and looked at each other. Taffy could not help laughing. His own knowledge of carpentry had been picked up by watching Joel Hugh at work, and just sufficed to tell him that his father was possibly the worst carpenter in the world. "I think my fingers must be all thumbs," declared Mr. Raymond. The puckers in his face set Taffy laughing afresh.
While we sat in the kitchen waiting for the cookies to bake or the taffy to cool, Nina used to coax Antonia to tell her stories about the calf that broke its leg, or how Yulka saved her little turkeys from drowning in the freshet, or about old Christmases and weddings in Bohemia.
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