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Updated: May 5, 2025
Some write, that he tooke this citie by a policie of warre, in binding to the féet of sparrowes which his people had caught, certeine clewes of thred or matches, finelie wrought & tempered with matter readie to take fire, so that the sparrowes being suffered to go out of hand, flue into the towne to lodge themselues within their neasts which they had made in stacks of corne, and eues of houses, so that the towne was thereby set on fire, and then the Britains issuing foorth, fought with their enimies, and were ouercome and discomfited.
You know. Then he turned, roaring: 'Vere is Miss Lawrence's understudy? Zing, if you please, Miss Clewes. I never sbeak to beobles twice. You may go home, Miss Lawrence. Dell Villips if you want anything, ant I'll zee to it. Vy the tevil don't beobles zay when there are things the madder at home? Now, Miss Clewes. The lieutenant was back at Paul's elbow a minute later.
But she emerged triumphant, and went in good spirits to Clewes, Aunt Beatrice's country home in the North, whither Ian Stewart shortly followed her. Beyond the fact that she wore perforce and with shame, not having money to buy others, frocks which Lady Thomson disapproved, she was once more the adoring niece to whom her aunt was accustomed. And Lady Thomson liked Ian.
"Aunt Beatrice was just saying you ought to get away from domestic cares for a month or two, Milly," he said, as cheerfully as he could. Lady Thomson explained. "What you want is a complete change; though I don't know what people mean when they talk about 'domestic cares. I should like to have you up at Clewes for the rest of the Long. Ian can look after the baby."
"Then you must all come to Clewes," decided Aunt Beatrice, after some remonstrance. "That'll settle it." "But my work!" ejaculated Ian in dismay. "How am I to get on at Clewes, away from the libraries?" "There are some things in life more important than books, Ian," returned Lady Thomson. "But it won't do a penn'orth of good," broke in Tims, argumentatively.
He made his renunciation in silence; then, with a quiet smile, he turned to Lady Thomson and answered her. "You're very kind, Aunt Beatrice, and quite right. There are things in life much more important than books." So the summer went by; a hot summer, passed brightly enough to all appearance in the spacious rooms and gardens of Clewes and in expeditions among the neighboring fells.
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