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"You certainly said something in your letter," said the Bishop vaguely. "There was s-something, Ponting, was there not?" "Yes, my lord," said Ponting. "There was. But I expect the Archdeacon did not mean it very seriously." "Do you mean that you find the Precentor inefficient?" said the Bishop, looking at the coffee with longing and then shaking his head. "Not to-day, Appleford, alas not to-day."
Dickson, a very gentlemanlike nice ex-guardsman, a Mr. and Mrs. Drake, who are very musical, and he plays the flute better than anyone I ever heard, all sat near us, but for two or three days we had the old story, and the waves beat and rolled us about, and the passengers disappeared like mice to their holes, and we could not go on deck. Miss Appleford Mr. Julian B. Arnold Mr. J. Fred Ackerman Mr.
It seemed, indeed, as he pulled the iron bell and heard its clang deep within the house, that he understood what it needed so well that it must sigh with a dignified relief when it saw him approach. Appleford the butler, who opened the door, was an old friend of his an aged, white-locked man, but dignity itself. "His lordship will be down in a moment," he said, showing him into the library.
The four men crossed the stone-flagged hall into the diningroom where Appleford stood, devoutly, as one about to perform a solemn rite. The dining-room was high-ceilinged with a fireplace of old red brick fronted with black oak beams. The walls were plain whitewash, and they carried only one picture, a large copy of Duerer's "Knight and the Devil."
It is a name to be discovered in several other parts of England where there has been some ancient crossing of a river, as, for instance, the crossing of the Mole in Surrey by the Roman military road. The next place below Abingdon may have been at Appleford, but was more likely between the high cliff at Clifton-Hampden and the high and dry spit of Long Wittenham.
There was nothing ghostly about him. I never see a man look more as if he had backed the winner. "Why, it's 'Enery," he says; and he gives me a slap on the back, as knocks the life into me again. "I heard you was dead," I says, still staring at her. "I read it in the paper 'death of the Marchioness of Appleford." "That's all right," she says.
Thus we have Shifford, Eynsham, South Stoke, Radley, Cumnor, Witham, Botley, the Hinkseys, Sandford, Shillingford, Swinford, Medmenham, Appleford, Sutton, Wittenham, Culham, Abingdon, Goring, Cowley, Littlemore, Cholsey, Nuneham, Wallingford, Pangbourne, Streatley, Stanton Harcourt; and all this crowd of names upon the upper river is arrived at without counting such properties as attached to the great monasteries within towns, as, for example, to the monasteries of Oxford.
Fortunately Jenny is a good nurse, and will look after her nicely. Still, I always feel uneasy when I am long away from her." The girls were to drive the whole distance to Appleford, and the prospect was so exhilarating that everyone was at the high-water mark of enjoyment. Even poor Monica caught the prevailing spirit, and for the moment, at least, began to forget her cares.
The girls were accustomed to celebrate the occasion with some little festivity, and were delighted when it was arranged that they should visit the town of Appleford, about ten miles away. "There is the Dripping Well to see, and a fine old church," said Miss Russell. "I am sure we shall be able to spend a very pleasant afternoon there. We must ask Monica to come with us."
"Well," I says, "I suppose you'll be bossing that bar in Capetown now before long?" "Talk sense," she answers. "How can the Marchioness of Appleford marry a hotel keeper?" "Why not," I says, "if she fancies him? What's the good of being a Marchioness if you can't do what you like?" "That's just it," she snaps out; "you can't. It would not be doing the straight thing by the family.
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