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Updated: May 28, 2025
Now the Sachem bar's full of slouchers every night, and quite a few of them don't do anything worth speaking of in the daytime, except make trouble for decent folks. If the boys try to put the screw on a farmer at harvest or when he has extra wheat to haul, you'll find they hatched the mischief at Beamish's saloon. But I've no use for giving those fellows tracts with warning pictures."
And off went this vivacious messenger, leaving Wyndham in a considerable state of astonishment and perturbation. What did Riddell want him for? He had not seen him since that evening, a week ago, when he had so nearly confessed to him about Beamish's.
For myself, I was really so engrossed by my narrative, and so excited by the "ponche," that I saw or heard very little of what was passing around, and have only a kind of dim recollection of being seized by the hand by "Feargus," who was Beamish's brother, and who, in the fullness of his heart, would have hugged me to his breast, if I had not opportunely been so overpowered as to fall senseless under the table.
Beamish's lavish board played no small part; for Ned had a rather lean, underfed look. But this only occurred to Mahony afterwards. Then, his chief vexation was with himself: it would have been kinder to set a dish of solid food before the boy, in place of the naked sherry-bottle. But as usual, his hospitable leanings came too late. One thing more.
The lectures of the great ladies and Chloe's counsels failed to persuade her to use the powder puff-ball. Perhaps too, as timidity quitted her, she enjoyed her distinctiveness in their midst. But the distinctiveness of a Duchess of Dewlap with the hair and cheeks of our native fields, was fraught with troubles outrunning Mr. Beamish's calculations.
"Don't mistake me: I take my glass of lager when I feel like it there's some right here in the house but, if it's needful, I can do without. I'm not going into this thing to help you in preaching to whisky-tanks and toughs it's the law I'm standing for. If what you suspect is going on, we'll soon have our colts rebranded and our calves missing. We have got to clean out Beamish's crowd."
"Well?" asked Gilks. "Hooked him, I fancy," said Silk. "He's coming to tea this evening." "Good man. How did you manage it?" "Oh, and by the way," said Silk, "that going to Beamish's last week was no end of a crime. If it's found out it's expulsion, remember. He believes it all. I've told him we won't let out on him, and he's promised not to say a word about it.
And this, though at the moment he was going through a very debauch of frankness. To the little black-eyed girl who pored over his letters at "Beamish's Family Hotel," he unbosomed himself as never in his life before.
"Oh! it doesn't matter," said Wyndham, who could not help being rather gratified to hear a monitor making apologies to him; "only I don't mean to go down again." "No, of course not; and if Gilks suggests it I'll back you up. By the way," he added, in tones of feigned alarm, "I suppose you didn't tell him about going to Beamish's, did you?"
"Why didn't you say so?" And drawing rein and getting down, he stuffed some of Mrs. Beamish's bundles fragments of the feast, which the good woman had sent with them under his wife's feet; stuffed too many, so that Polly drove the rest of the way with her knees raised to a hump in front of her. All the afternoon they had been making for dim blue ranges.
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