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Updated: July 1, 2025
So you see I lose that income by letting this heap of old gold plate lie locked up in those chests. Now, what would you do with it, if it were yours?" "Sell it, Sir John, and put it in houses," I said sharply. "Yes, James Burdon; and a sensible thing to do. But you are a servant, and I'm a baronet; though I don't look one, do I?" he said, holding up his red hands and laughing.
And still Mary looked at the two accountants who completed the triangle by looking at Burdon, as they naturally would, waiting for him to turn and speak to them. As Mary watched them, she became conscious of a change in their manner, a tenseness of interest, such as the two astronomers aforesaid might display at the sight of some disturbance in the heavens.
"Plenty of sun," she thought, "and rompers for them all, and sand piles, and toys, and certified milk, and trained nurses " And while she dreamed she hummed to herself in approval, and wasn't aware that the air she hummed was the Spanish Cavalier and wasn't aware that Burdon Woodward was near until she suddenly awoke from her dream and found they were face to face. He turned and walked with her.
The monumental swivel chair had disappeared, and in its place was one of wicker, upholstered in cretonne. On the desk was another vase of flowers, a writing set of charming design and a triple photograph frame, containing pictures of Miss Cordelia, Miss Patty and old Josiah himself. Mary was still marvelling when she caught sight of Burdon Woodward in the doorway. "Who who did this?" she asked.
Rolland advised me at once to put up with the inconvenience as well as I could. He told me that I should fall in with Captain Burdon in the next day or two, and it would be easy to obtain a more convenient conveyance from him. I followed his advice, allowed my luggage to be carried, and patiently mounted my camel.
The night before Helen had come in late, and Mary soon knew that she had been with Burdon. Helen was quiet for her and rather pale as well. "Did you have a quarrel?" Mary had hopefully asked. "Quarrel with Burdon Woodward?" asked Helen, and in a low voice she answered herself, "I couldn't if I tried." "... Do you love him, Helen?"
He was a sort of Tamagno of the downs, with a tremendous voice audible a mile away. Dan'l Burdon, the treasure-seeker The shepherd's feeling for the Bible Effect of the pastoral life The shepherd's story of Isaac's boyhood The village on the Wylye One of the shepherd's early memories was of Dan'l Burdon, a labourer on the farm where Isaac Bawcombe was head-shepherd.
"What do they see?" she thought, and looked at Burdon. But Burdon at the same moment had turned to the accountants, his manner as large, his air as dashing as ever. "Anything you want, gentlemen," he said, "you have only to ask for it."
Burdon rose, and said he was embarrassed to know how to act. Mr. Wilberforce had in a great measure met his ideas. Indeed he considered himself as much in his hands; but he wished to go gradually to the abolition of the trade. He wished to give time to the planters to recruit their stocks.
"Where's Burdon?" she asked. "He wasn't feeling very well," said Uncle Stanley after a long look at his son's desk, " a sort of headache. I told him he had better go home." And every morning for the rest of the week, when she saw Uncle Stanley, she gave him such an innocent look and said, "How's Burdon's head this morning? Any better?"
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