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Updated: June 21, 2025
The remainder of the letter was taken up with instructions concerning the gun. It seemed a complicated sort of gun. I wished I hadn't read about the gun to Ethelbertha. It made her nervous for the rest of the day. Veronica's letter followed on Thursday morning. I read it going down in the train.
"I should not grumble at them," said Ethelbertha; "we might get some of the other sort, and like them still less." "I'm not so sure of that," I replied. "In a life of continuous joy, I can imagine even pain coming as a welcome variation. I wonder sometimes whether the saints in heaven do not occasionally feel the continual serenity a burden.
"Oh, yes," said Amenda, "I loved him right enough, but it's no good loving a man that wants you to live on sausages that keep you awake all night." "But does he want you to live on sausages?" persisted Ethelbertha. "Oh, he doesn't say anything about it," explained Amenda; "but you know what it is, mum, when you marry a pork butcher: you're expected to eat what's left over.
"Whether Ethelbertha was mollified by the proper spirit displayed in this last remark, I cannot say, but I think it probable. At all events, it was in a voice more of sorrow than of anger that she resumed her examination. "'You were walking with a soldier's arm around your waist when we passed you, Amenda? she observed interrogatively.
Speaking of them in a state of rest, however, I can say of them they appeared to be a cheerful crew. My idea had been that so soon as the men had finished their dinner we would weigh anchor, while I, smoking a cigar, with Ethelbertha by my side, would lean over the gunwale and watch the white cliffs of the Fatherland sink imperceptibly into the horizon.
Ethelbertha, who thinks it may be hereditary she herself having had an aunt who had suffered from contracted ligament fixed her up as comfortably as the pain would permit with cushions in the centre of the back seat; and the rest of us toiled after the carriage. I should not like to say for certain that horses have a sense of humour, but I sometimes think they must.
"The mother appears to be a nonentity, and St. Leonard himself well, he is not a business man. It is Janie who manages everything keeps everything going." "What is she like?" asked Ethelbertha. "I am telling you," I said. "She is so practical, and yet at the same time " "In appearance, I mean," explained Ethelbertha. "How you women," I said, "do worry about mere looks! What does it matter?
Very annoying, this stove business." "What is the use of his being there without you?" Ethelbertha wanted to know. "Oh, he'll potter round," I suggested, "and take measurements. Dick will be about to explain things to him. Or, if he isn't, there's Robina awkward thing is, Robina seems to have taken a dislike to him." "Why has she taken a dislike to him?" asked Ethelbertha.
Veronica, who had been in trouble most of the morning, sat stiffly on the extreme edge of her seat, clothed in the attitude of one dead to the world; Dick, in lavender gloves that Robina had thoughtfully bought for him, next to her. Ethelbertha, Robina, and myself sat perched on the back seat; to have leaned back would have been to lie down.
"We will take that house at Folkestone," answered Ethelbertha, "and I'll go down there with Kate. And if you want to do Clara Harris a good turn," added Ethelbertha, "you'll persuade Harris to go with you, and then Clara can join us. We three used to have some very jolly times together before you men ever came along, and it would be just delightful to renew them.
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