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Yes, Mary was pleased to say Richard had consented to Trotty's return; but he would not hear of her undertaking Johnny. At eleven years of age the proper place for a boy, he said, was a Grammar School. With Trotty, of course, it was different. "I always found her easy to manage, and should be more than glad to have her"; and Mary meant what she said. Her heart ached for John's motherless children.
There's plenty of sweet hay up there, belonging to a neighbour; and it's as clean as hands, and Meg, can make it. Cheer up! Don't give way. A new heart for a New Year, always! The hand released from the child's hair, had fallen, trembling, into Trotty's hand. So Trotty, talking without intermission, led him out as tenderly and easily as if he had been a child himself.
You have not hurt me. 'Nor the child, I hope? said Trotty. 'Nor the child, returned the man. 'I thank you kindly. As he said so, he glanced at a little girl he carried in his arms, asleep: and shading her face with the long end of the poor handkerchief he wore about his throat, went slowly on. The tone in which he said 'I thank you kindly, penetrated Trotty's heart.
'Richard, moaned Trotty, roaming among the company, to and fro; 'where is he? I can't find Richard! Where is Richard? Not likely to be there, if still alive! But Trotty's grief and solitude confused him; and he still went wandering among the gallant company, looking for his guide, and saying, 'Where is Richard? Show me Richard! He was wandering thus, when he encountered Mr.
And you have done that wrong, to us, the Chimes. Trotty's first excess of fear was gone. But he had felt tenderly and gratefully towards the Bells, as you have seen; and when he heard himself arraigned as one who had offended them so weightily, his heart was touched with penitence and grief.
It is possible that poor Trotty's faith in these very vague Old Times was not entirely destroyed, for he felt vague enough at that moment. One thing, however, was plain to him, in the midst of his distress; to wit, that however these gentlemen might differ in details, his misgivings of that morning, and of many other mornings, were well founded. 'No, no.
Throw me into this, the empty one, no dinner, and Nature's founts in some poor woman, dried by starving misery and rendered obdurate to claims for which her offspring HAS authority in holy mother Eve. Weigh me the two, you Daniel, going to judgment, when your day shall come! What then? The words rose up in Trotty's breast, as if they had been spoken by some other voice within him.
Trotty's ghost was there, wandering about, poor phantom, drearily; and looking for its guide. There was to be a great dinner in the Great Hall. At which Sir Joseph Bowley, in his celebrated character of Friend and Father of the Poor, was to make his great speech.
Her eyes were the colour of forget-me-nots, her mouth was red as any rose. She had, too, so sweet and natural a manner that Polly was soon chatting frankly about herself and her life, Mrs. Glendinning listening with her face pressed to the spun-glass of Trotty's hair. When she rose, she clasped both Polly's hands in hers. "You dear little woman... may I kiss you? I am ever so much older than you."
The lady had stooped to Trotty, whom she was trying to coax from her lurking-place. "What a darling! How I envy you!" "Have you no children?" Polly asked shyly, when Trotty's relationship had been explained. "Yes, a boy. But I should have liked a little girl of my own. Boys are so difficult," and she sighed. The horse nuzzling for sugar roused Polly to a sense of her remissness.
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