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Updated: May 6, 2025
And I sent round a messenger with a note to his rooms, but it was returned, marked, 'Has left; address not Known. I don't know what has become of him. Perhaps the housekeeper could have told us, but the unfortunate woman is beyond reach of questions." "Do you mean the Mr. Cranley who is Rector of St. Medard's, in Chelsea?" asked Barton. "No; I mean Mr.
'Purvis is putting his little boy to bed and hearing him say his prayers, said Toffy. 'He is a queer mixture. Rosa rose, and walking to the edge of the corridor peered out into the pitch-black night. 'It 's so dark, he said, 'I cannot see a thing. 'Never mind, said Peter, 'there are no wild beasts to spring at you unawares. Do you remember poor Cranley, who was in Pitt's house at Eton?
"They're not well off, but we mustn't on any account pauperize them," was her verdict. "Dr. Cranley says an invalid carriage would be a great boon to the child, but suggests that the parents should pay half the expense. They would value it far more if they did so, than if it were entirely a gift. He knows of a second-hand wicker carriage that could be had cheap.
Miss Cranley, unheedful of his exclamations, was however just going to begin with more vehemence than ever, when a sudden accident put a stop to the torrent of her oratory. But this event cannot be properly related without going back a little in our narrative, and acquainting the reader with some of those circumstances by which it was produced. A Catastrophe.
Carter, the housekeeper, you know, went to one of the exhibitions with her fiancé, and the girls broke all the windows and almost all the tea-things." "The woman whom I am happy to be able to recommend to you will not stand anything of that kind," answered Mr. Cranley. "She is quiet, but extremely firm, and has been accustomed to deal with a very desperate character.
We ran by them, past the flag-ship, for the purpose of bringing up, when we were hailed with "What! Captain Cranley, are you afraid of a capful of wind? There's nothing to hurt you now outside; so go to sea again without bringing up." These words stung our old captain to the quick.
Cranley. Probably there was not one other man among the motley herds of Mrs. St. John Deloraine's acquaintance who would have used her unsuspicious kindness as an instrument in a plot of any sort. But Mr. "Shall I go and lunch with her?" he asked himself, as he twisted her note, with its characteristic black border and device of brown, and gold.
Thomas Cranley, the son of the Earl of Birkenhead. He was a great friend of mine." "Mr. Thomas Cranley!" exclaimed Barton, with an expression of face which probably spoke at least three volumes, and these of a highly sensational character. "Now, please," cried Mrs. St.
Cranley declared, he had commended Margaret to his old officer, and had implored him to abstract her from the charge of the Fellow of St Gatien's. Margaret, as we know, did not entertain a very lively kindness for Maitland, nor had she ever heard her father speak of that unlucky young man with the respect which his kindness, his academic rank, and his position in society deserved.
"By gad, I can see every pip on the cards!" cried Martin. "Of course you can; and if you had the art of correcting fortune, you could make use of what you see. At the least you would know whether to take a card or stand." "I didn't," said the wretched Cranley. "How on earth was I to know that the infernal fool of a waiter would spill the liquor there, and give you a chance against me?"
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