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Updated: June 26, 2025
The latter, who ought by rights to have been transcribing a French exercise, grinned, and promptly bolted round the corner. "Who was it, Fenleigh?" Valentine hesitated. "Who was it? Did you see the boy?" "Yes, sir; it was my cousin." "What! J. Fenleigh in the Upper Fourth?" "Yes, sir." "Humph! very well," answered Mr.
Jack Fenleigh a bone collar-stud, while a boy named Hamond promised what was vaguely described as "part of a musical box," and which afterwards turned out to be the small revolving barrel, the only fragment of the instrument which remained.
Lydia turned away. "I will be called Blood till then. If Lady Fenleigh " "Yes, my dear," promptly interrupted her aunt, "I know that sort of independence. I used to have whole Declarations of it. But you'll get over that, in Europe. There was a time just after the war when the English quite liked our sticking up for ourselves; but that's past now.
As might have been expected, Fenleigh J. was found to be the owner of the pillow which had done the damage, and he was accordingly kept back on the following day to pay the usual penalty of an imposition. "I'll take your luggage on with me," said Valentine. "You get out at Hornalby, the first station from here, and it's only about a quarter of a mile from there to Brenlands.
"Surgeon Gaylard sends his compliments, and would you allow one of your men named Fenleigh to come and see an officer who's badly wounded? He's some relative I think, sir." "Very good," answered the captain drowsily; "you can find him yourself." The orderly had no difficulty in doing that, for in a moment Jack was at his side. "Is he dying?"
I wanted to nudge you to sing a little lower, or different, or something; but I couldn't, everybody was looking so. No matter. It's all right now. If she liked it, nobody else will dare to breathe. You can see that she has taken a fancy to you; she'll make a great pet of you." "Who is she?" asked Lydia, bluntly. "Lady Fenleigh. Such a character, so eccentric!
"Fenleigh, take this in to Mr. Rowlands, and bring back an answer." Valentine made his way to the head-quarters of the Upper Fourth. The classroom was rather quieter than the one he had left, Mr. Rowlands being somewhat of a martinet. "All right," said the latter, who was copying a list of questions on the blackboard; "put your note on my table, and I'll attend to you in a moment."
"Go on all the lot of you!" The visitors demurred, but being outnumbered three to one, they were seized and hustled unceremoniously out of the room. In the midst of all this commotion, however, Fenleigh J., still continued in an unbroken slumber, and was distinctly heard snoring louder than ever as his companions dragged him off down the passage.
He accosted one or two of the new-comers, but by the time the bell rang for afternoon school he had only succeeded in ascertaining the fact that his cousin must be somewhere about, from having seen the name "J. Fenleigh" ticked off on the bedroom list.
I may rot here all my life, and no one troubles the toss of a button whether I'm happy or miserable." He was in the same ill-humour when he returned home to dinner. Mr. Fenleigh was also out of temper, and seemed inclined to give vent to his feelings by renewing the dispute which had commenced at the breakfast-table.
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