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Jardine helped to roll from her lap a ball of rosy wool. "Mr. Jardine, will you give me that? Had you heard that Abercrombie's cows were lifted?" "Aye, I heard. What is it, Holdfast?" Both dogs had raised their heads. "Bran is outside," said Strickland.

From this party I soon learned that there was no occasion to push our jaded animals, since the crisis, if there had been one, was over and the enemy repulsed, so the increased gait was reduced to a leisurely march that took us late in the afternoon to the north bank of the Pamunkey, opposite Abercrombie's camp.

"Is Papa really dead?" I at length found voice to ask. "Yes, Margery dear. I'm so sorry." "Will he go to Abraham's bosom, Mr. George?" "Will he go where, Margery?" "To Abraham's bosom, you know, where the poor beggar went that's lying on the steps in my Sunday picture-book, playing with those dear old dogs." Mr. Abercrombie's knowledge of Holy Scripture was, I fear, limited.

Jessie Frothingham, who was the head of a fashionable girls' school, just around the corner from Miss Abercrombie's where Sylvia herself had received the finishing touch. Mrs.

Bradstreet, however, with seven hundred Massachusetts men and eleven hundred New Yorkers, crossed Lake Ontario and took Port Frontenac, the garrison fleeing at their approach. Amherst, on hearing of Abercrombie's cowardice, embarked for Boston with over four thousand men, marched thence to Albany and on to the camp; Abercrombie was sent to England, and Amherst took his place as chief.

These, they said, being encamped before the fort, were employed in making a formidable intrenchment, where they intended to wait for a reinforcement of three thousand men, who had been detached under the command of M. de Levi, to make a diversion on the side of the Mohawk river;* but, upon intelligence of Mr. Abercrombie's approach, were now recalled for the defence of Ticonderoga.

Craig started toward the hall, but his wife seized hold of him and held him back. "No, no, no!" she cried, in a low voice. "Let them alone. It may be her only chance of safety. Hark!" The silence in General Abercrombie's room was again broken. A man's firm tread was on the floor and it could be heard passing clear across the apartment, then returning and then going from side to side.

It was the reverse. There were moments, as he sat in the generously upholstered chair before his desk, in the comfortable down-town office which overlooked Abercrombie's principal thoroughfare, that he felt like abandoning all responsibility in the chaos of his friend's affairs. But this was only the result of irritation, and had no relation to his intentions.

There is no mere prettiness in Mr. Abercrombie's writing. The wearisome refrain of sex, disappointed or desirous, neither has part in the argument nor supplies him with images or asides.

The Canadians, swarthy, thick and strong, wore white with black facings. Some Indians were about, but fewer than Robert had expected. It was true then that they had become alarmed at Abercrombie's advancing might, and were leaving the French to their fate.