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Wilson let off, and to notice the delicate technical point which brought to nought the laborious and at one time hopeful efforts of the worthy persons who tried to turn out Archdeacon Denison.
What a question to ask! Surely you know how dishonorably she acted last spring! Someone must have told you. You and Mary Wilson are such friends." "Yes; someone told me, but it wasn't Mary Wilson. She doesn't do that sort of thing. Nora O'Day told me. Are you afraid to join the same set with her?" "Not afraid in one sense of the word. To be sure, she would not influence me an iota.
And then you can have the one Miss Temple gave me to make into something for the children. It's a queer sort of colour neither red nor yellow but it looks all right by night. She said Mr. Wilson didn't like to see her in it. Of course, she's bigger than you, but they wear things so short and loose nowadays that I dare say if I hem the bottom up it will be all right.
"You've no need to be afraid of them," said Mrs. Wilson, who made light of all complaints, "they never venture out of the walls, to my knowledge." The fear, however, that a rat might possibly gnaw its way into her bedroom afflicted Cicely continually. "If it ran across my pillow I should die of fright, I know I should!" she wailed. "I wish Mrs. Wilson would let us have the cat to sleep with us.
"Hold on to it till you kin mark its ears, so's you'll know it again for your property," said Shorty sarcastically. "Good idees are skeerce and valuable." "Jeff Wilson, the General's Chief Clerk, who belongs to my company," said the Sergeant, "told me yesterday that they wanted another Orderly, and to pick out one for him. I'll send a note for him to detail you right off."
It is possible that President Wilson wanted to establish a moral reason I do not like to say a moral alibi for accepting, as he was constrained by necessity to accept, all those conditions which were the negation of what he had solemnly laid down, the moral pledge of his people, of the American democracy.
The story was read, and then came the various comments. "Oh, it was dreadful," said one. "Mr. Loraine belongs to one of the first families in the town; and what a cut it will be to them, not simply that he has been murdered, but murdered where he was in the house of Lizzie Wilson. I knew her before she left husband and took to evil courses."
"Yes, that was all. I jumped the dike and crossed the fields instead of taking the road. As I came by Fornside I saw that there was a light in the little room looking to the back. It was Wilson's room; he would have no other. I thought he had got back, and I crept up I don't know why I crept up to the window and looked in. It was not Wilson who was there. It was Mrs. Garth.
"It ought to be sung to the tune of the 'Hoosier's Ghost," said Wilson. "Who is the Sir Erskine alluded to in the song?" inquired Mrs. Harmar. "Sir William Erskine, one of Sir William Howe's officers," replied old Harmar. "This song created much merriment among the whigs at the time it was written, so that, however much the enemy were right, we had the laugh on our side."
But since the morning heavy clouds had been gathering, and toward eleven o'clock, after the landing was effected, the vapors condensed into violent rain, so that instead of starting they had to look for shelter. Wilson was fortunate enough to discover what just suited their wants: a grotto hollowed out by the sea in the basaltic rocks.
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