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Updated: June 18, 2025
He gets £500 a-year, and if you knew all he owes, and all he hasn't got, you wouldn't try to rob him of it. With Felix Carbury, Montague had as little success. Sir Felix hated the secretary, had detected him cheating at cards, had resolved to expose him, and had then been afraid to do so. He had told Dolly Longestaffe, and the reader will perhaps remember with what effect.
"Oh, I'll be careful, Bessie," said Dolly, with a shudder. "I'll do whatever I'm told. You needn't worry about that." "That's good, Dolly. The first thing, of course, is never to get far away from the camp alone. We mustn't come over this way at all, or go anywhere near Loon Pond as long as those gypsies are still there." "Oh, Bessie, do you think we'll have to tell Miss Eleanor about this?"
And now it is you begging to see her. Had your eyes been opened, sir, you might have had many a glimpse of Miss Dolly these three weeks past." "What! She has been watching with me?" I asked, in a rapture not to be expressed. "'Od's, but those are secrets. And the medical profession is close-mouthed, Mr. Carvel. So you want to see her? No," cries he, "'tis not needful to swear it on the Evangels.
Really, Dolly was ! The white blur of her new boudoir cap suddenly impinged on his consciousness. Surely she was not getting un-English! At her time of life! "I'm thinking of Olive," he said; "I don't want her worried with that sort of thing." "Perhaps Olive can manage for herself. In these days it doesn't do to interfere with love." "Love!" muttered the Colonel. "What? Phew!"
There would be a touch of humour in all this if it were not so deeply pathetic in its close association with possible tragedies. One never knows where or at what hour a stray shot or splinter will fall, and it is pitiful sometimes to hear cries for dolly from a prattling mite who may herself be fatherless or motherless to-morrow.
A mighty roar of applause, mingled with cries of "Dolly Durden! Dear little Dolly Durden!" accompanied the drinking of the toast. Again the bugle rang out for silence, and amid a hush as before, Mephistopheles shouted: "The Sunday of the Puritans is dead and damned! Their Bible is burned and a dead letter!"
We buried Dolly in the country under the yew tree. A friend of mine who plays the fiddle came down on purpose to assist. We buried her in the hot spring sunshine, while the birds from shady nooks sang joyously of life and love.
It was a great thing that one of the girls should be married, and Dolly had brought down an enormous china dog, about five feet high, as a wedding present, which added materially to the happiness of the meeting.
'I beg that he won't arrange my money with the banks, sir. You'd better tell him not. A cheque upon his bank which I can pay in to mine is about the best thing going. You'll be in the city to-morrow, and you'd better tell him. If you don't like, you know, I'll get Squercum to do it. Mr Squercum was a lawyer whom Dolly had employed of late years much to the annoyance of his parent.
Thereon Archibald giggled again and Dolly and Polly remarked with one voice they always spoke together, "Oh! clumsy!" To complete my misfortunes I missed my way going downstairs and strayed to and fro like a lost lamb until I found myself confronted by a green baize door which reminded me of something.
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