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The dugout swarms with them. Last night they ate half my biscuits and a good part of Timothy's clean socks, and whenever I began to get to sleep one of them would run across my face, or some other sensitive part of my anatomy, and wake me up. I shall leave the candle alight to-night, to see if that keeps them away. Last night the rats tried to eat the candle, and very nearly set me on fire.
Then, one midwinter day, Father Delancey climbed the hill to say that Timothy's sister's husband was dead, and that Timothy was sent for to take his place, hold the Nebraska claim, work the land, and be a father to his sister's children. Timothy was stunned with horror, but the unbending will of the never-contradicted parish priest bore him along without question. "Sure, Tim, go! I tell you to!
"They tell me at Timothy's," said Nicholas, lowering his voice, "that Dartie has gone off at last. That'll be a relief to your father. He was a rotten egg." Again Soames nodded. If there was a subject on which the Forsytes really agreed, it was the character of Montague Dartie. "You take care," said Nicholas, "or he'll turn up again. Winifred had better have the tooth out, I should say.
Everyone stood up. James was so old; and he had not been at Timothy's for nearly two years. "It's hot in here," he said. Soames divested him of his coat, and as he did so could not help admiring the glossy way his father was turned out. James sat down, all knees, elbows, frock-coat, and long white whiskers. "What's the meaning of that?" he said.
"I am quite real," and she smiled, "but now you must notice these two rooms a little that we shall pass through. They are very ghostly I think; they were the Sir Timothy's who went to fetch James I from Scotland. I am glad they are not mine, but the long gallery I love; it is my sitting-room my very own and in it I keep something which matters to me more than anything else in the world."
"Timothy's going, too, with the family carriage. After all, there aren't many trains, anyway, that they can come on, you know." "Hm-m, I know," said John Pendleton. "Jim, I admire your nerve, but not your judgment. I'm glad you're going to follow your nerve and not your judgment, however and I wish you good luck." "Thank you, sir," smiled the young man dolefully.
But from the time when, as a mere girl, she brought Bosinney into his life to wreck it, he had never hit it off with June and never would! And here she was, unmarried to this day, owning a Gallery!... And suddenly it came to Soames how little he knew now of his own family. The old aunts at Timothy's had been dead so many years; there was no clearing-house for news.
It should have elevated him beyond the editorship of a country newspaper. Why it did not do so his antagonists pretended to know, and his friends would smile to hear. The report was that he worshipped the nymph Whisky. Timothy's article had plucked Beauchamp out of bed; Beauchamp's card in return did the same for him. 'Commander Beauchamp?
These events were so extreme, so subversive of pure Forsyteism, as to have a binding effect upon the family, and Timothy's was thronged next Sunday afternoon by members trying to find out what they thought about it all, and exchange with each other a sense of family credit.
I don't want any swells interferin' with my business. You 'op it. Is that strite enough? 'Op it, quick!" Sir Timothy's anger seemed to have abated. There was even the beginning of a smile upon his lips. All the time his hand caressed the neck of the horse. Francis noticed with amazement that the poor brute had raised his head and seemed to be making some faint effort at reciprocation.
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