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Updated: June 18, 2025
"But I can't think it's anything like that," he finished, as he turned away. There was very little done in the Beacon Street house that day but to "get ready for Billy." In the kitchen Dong Ling cooked. Everywhere else, except in Cyril's domain, Pete dusted and swept and "puttered" to his heart's content. William did not go to the office at all that day, and Bertram did not touch his brushes.
However, he flattered himself that he was getting full value for his eightpence. He then worked out the cost of Cyril's escape. s. d. The cab of course might cost more, and he must take back the eightpence out of it for himself.
The work of unloading began at once, and was carried on until after dark. "That is the last of them," the captain said, to Cyril's satisfaction.
He had not noticed that Muriel was sitting just outside the open window, though Mrs. Colston, being in a different position, had done so. She thought their voices would reach the girl, and if anything strongly in Cyril's disfavor cropped up during the conversation it might be as well that she should hear it. Mrs.
He recalled her bright good-humor, the music of her laugh, the soft tones of her voice, the hint of courage he had seen in her eyes; and there was pain in the recollection. Gertrude Jernyngham was powerless to move him as Muriel had done, but he was sorry for Cyril's sister and very considerate of her. "We'll have the crop off the ground before long," he said.
But unmoved amid the roaring sea of plunderers and plundered, stood, scattered up and down, Cyril's spiritual police, enforcing, by a word, an obedience which the Roman soldiers could only have compelled by hard blows of the spear-butt.
They could not persuade their mother to go with them, perhaps because she had from her nursery-window sympathized with Cyril's admiration of the great white horse that was being led round to the door of Gowanbrae.
And Cyril came to a halt. He had definitely abandoned his high enterprise. Turning around, he began to retrace his stumbling steps. But, at best, in a large field, in a blizzard and in pitch darkness, and with no visible landmarks, it is not easy to double back on one's route, with any degree of accuracy. In Cyril's case, the thing was wholly impossible.
I want to save you that." "Father," Gertrude broke in softly, "though it's hard to say, I know that Cyril's right." Jernyngham got up wearily. "There is nothing more that I can urge. You must do as you think best, my son, but while I shall never quite grasp your point of view, you will always be in our thoughts." They were glad to separate, for the interview had been trying to them all.
Lying down beside the freezing child, he pressed his great shaggy body close to Cyril's; protecting him from the swirling snow and from the worst of the cold. The dog's dark, deep-set eyes roved watchfully toward the crevice, alert for sign of any other marauder that might issue forth. His own shaggy shoulder was hurting him, annoyingly, from the wildcat's bite. But to this he gave no heed.
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