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Updated: June 22, 2025
The party at Brenlands had waited in vain for a reply to their letters. Within a week, Miss Fenleigh had written again, assuring the runaway that neither she nor his cousins for one moment suspected him of having stolen the watch; but in the meantime the mischief had been done. "They think I did it," muttered Jack to himself, "or they'd have written at once.
"Yes; I've come to look after you. Are you in much pain?" "No only when I cough and it's dreadfully cold." The listener stifled down a groan. Ah, dear thoughts of long ago! Such things had never happened on the mimic battlefields at Brenlands. This, then, was the reality. "Jack, I want you to promise me something your word of honour to a dying man."
He's going away to-night, and I shouldn't like you to part, except as friends." The boy frowned. "I don't want to be friends," he answered impatiently. "He's played me some very shabby tricks, and I think the less we see of him the better." "Perhaps so; but I'm so sorry that you should have actually come to blows, and that while you were staying here with me at Brenlands." "I'm not sorry!
"'I believe I must go out into the world again, said the duckling." The Ugly Duckling. The summers came and went, but Jack Fenleigh remained a rebel, refusing to join the annual gathering at Brenlands, and to pay his homage at the court of Queen Mab.
He was sitting one morning on a corner of the table, watching with great interest his aunt's dexterous use of the rolling-pin. "Well, Jack," she said, looking up for a moment to straighten her back, "are you sorry I made you come to Brenlands?" "No, rather not; I never enjoyed myself so much before. I should like to stay here always." "What! and never go home again?"
"Oh, you mustn't say that. In a fortnight's time we shall all be at Brenlands together, and then we must try to rub some of the sharp corners off this perverse young gentleman. I must come back with you to the school and try to see him before I drive home." In the quiet retirement of Mr.
The term passed very pleasantly for Jack and Valentine; and what between cricket, bathing, and the prospect of spending the coming holiday at Brenlands, they had good reason for feeling contented and happy. Only one thing happened to disturb their peace of mind, and that an incident of rather a curious nature.
I've told her how jolly it is to think that in four weeks' time we shall be at Brenlands again; and now I'm stuck, and I can't get any further." "Have you told her how well you've been doing in cricket this season?" "No." "Well, I have; so it doesn't much matter. Look here! Raymond Fosberton's outside, and wants to see you."
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