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Updated: June 15, 2025
Faringfield gave a low cry of horror and maternal pity, and fell to caressing the bruised wrist; and Madge, raising her arm girl-wise, began to rain blows on her brother, which fell wherever they might, but where none of them could hurt.
At last, his possessions being bestowed, and the bag fastened with much physical exertion, he left it on the bed, and slipped down-stairs to find his one remaining piece of property. Philip's cat had waxed plump in the Faringfield household, Master Ned always deterred from harming it by the knowledge that if aught ill befell it, the finger of accusation would point instantly and surely at him.
"Well, Master Winwood," said Madge's father, "we shall have to take you in overnight, at least, and then see what's to be done." At this Mrs. Faringfield said hastily, with a touch of alarm: "But, my dear, is it quite safe? The child might might have the measles or something, you know." Madge tittered openly, and Philip Winwood looked puzzled. Mr.
"Well, boy, something must be done about you, that's certain," said Mr. Faringfield. "You have no money, my daughter says. Spent all you had for cakes and kickshaws in the towns where the stage-coach stopped, I'll warrant." The boy smiled. "The riding made me hungry sir," said he. "I'd have saved my extra shilling if I'd known how it was going to be."
"I doubt there was little love lost between me and Culverson! "And so that you are here, what now?" inquired Mr. Faringfield, looking as if he appreciated Mr. Culverson's sentiments. "Why, sir, as for that, I think 'tis for you to say." "Indeed, sir?" "Yes, sir, seeing that I'm your son, whom you're bound to provide for." "You are twenty-two, I think," says Mr. Faringfield.
The speed with which his candles burnt down, and required renewal, told of nocturnal studies in his garret. As these did not perceptibly interfere with his activity the next day, they were viewed by Mr. Faringfield rather with commendation than otherwise, and so were allowed to continue.
Our course, soon after leaving the road, lay through woods, the margin of the little river affording us only sufficient clear space for proceeding in single file. De Lancey rode at the head, then went two of his men, then Tom Faringfield and myself, the troop stringing out behind us, the lieutenant being at the rear.
We began to think England would take us back on good terms if the war could be ended; and we considered the state of the country, the interests of trade indeed, 'twas chiefly the thought of your business, the hope of seeing it what it once was, that drove me into the thing." "You wretched hypocrite!" interposed Mr. Faringfield. "Oh, well; misunderstand me, as usual. Call me names, if you like.
She had not offered speech or motion; and she continued to stand motionless, regarding her father in fear and sorrow. "I tell you to leave this house!" he added, in a slightly higher and quicker voice. "Do you wait for me to thrust you out?" She slowly moved toward the door. But her mother ran and caught her arm, and stood between her and Mr. Faringfield. "William!" said the lady.
Delicately as she did this, the thought that his favourite child could harbour a wish that involved going to England, was a blow to Mr. Faringfield. He hastened to remove all cause of complaint on the score of defective education.
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