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That suggestion brought disaster to Jane, for Ted Guthrie swayed at the very end of the bench and the whole line almost went over backwards. It was in Ted's attempt to punish Jane for her vanity that the sudden sweep, like a current in physics, jerked feet from the ground and upset balance generally. "Please finish the yarn," implored Nettie Brocton.
Brocton knows I'm an experienced soldier of great repute I state plain facts and am eagerly expected by the Prince and by my old companion-in-arms, Geordie Murray. They couldn't have planned it better if they had wished it, but it's absurd to say they wished it. There ought to be a cashiered captain and a half-flayed dragoon somewhere south of us. Damme, I merit that at least."
Her eyes flickered until they rested on Nettie Brocton. "I must ask Net for a dance," she said. "I suppose it is perfectly proper for a mere freshie to do so?" "Absolutely," replied Judith, "but you are not slighting me?" "Not for worlds, Judy. May I have the next?" "What's your hurry just now Bobbie? Trying to duck me?"
L. J. Farmer, of Pulaski, to collect this exhibit, but owing to the very poor condition of shipments received from Illinois, Missouri and other nearby States, the plan was abandoned, as it was feared that the berries would be spoiled in transit. One exhibit, however, was made. This was the Ryckman strawberry and came from G. E. Ryckman, of Brocton.
But Dol's Beauty Parlor outrage was too delectable to forego even for a final ball game, "The place, I mean. It's fitted up " "Were you in?" gasped Winifred Ayres. "No, of course I was not in," disdained Dozia. "No one who ever knew the trickery of Dolorez Vincez would enter that place." "Why?" asked the innocent Nettie Brocton. "Would she really do something dreadful "
"I must take all the cracks and the chuckles and presently some naive little freshie will amble along and ask me if I happen to be one of the soap bubbles she just blew off her penny pipe," and the pneumatic cheeks puffed out in bubble mockery. "Now Teddy dear. Don't fret. Everyone is just jealous because you're so lovely and comfy looking," appeased Nettie Brocton, the dimple girl.
"None whatever," he replied. "My Lord Brocton insulted you wantonly and deliberately." "Then, my lord Marquess, I may be wrong, but I think I have the right of choosing the place, the time, and the weapons." "Certainly, Mr. Wheatman," he answered. "Then if I choose to say, 'On the banks of the Susquehanna, ten years hence, with tomahawks, so it must be?"
Your father is, you fear, a prisoner, and indeed it seems the only explanation of his absence. I do not ask why. I gather that there is no purpose to be served by your sharing his fate." "Free, I may be able to help him. A prisoner, I should...." She stopped, hesitating. "My Lord Brocton?" said I interrogatively. For the second time her face burned, and I saw in it shame and distress and fear.
Mistress Waynflete had been so determined in her decision to follow her father that perhaps she had some plan in mind. She said nothing if she had, and if she had, it would, I supposed, depend on her woman's power of influencing Brocton. The future was as black as the outlook along the river, but I faced it eagerly. She broke the silence: "The last boat I was in was a gondola.
Colonel Waynflete's connexion with the Jacobite cause had, naturally, been kept secret, but she was almost certain that Lord Brocton had discovered it through a certain spy and toady of his, one Major Tixall. "Pimples all over his face?" broke in Kate. "Yes," said Mistress Waynflete, with a little shudder. "He was in the village this afternoon with Lord Brocton," returned Kate.
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