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Updated: June 9, 2025
Miss Burd, bristling with anger, swept the delinquents before her to the door of the hostel, and watched them flee upstairs, then went to lay the matter before Mrs. Best. In Dormitory 2, four girls got into bed at topmost speed. "Of all the ill-luck!" mourned Fil. "I didn't know Miss Burd prowled about the garden in a dressing-gown," exclaimed Ingred.
After what we have said about names growing, Nomen nascitur, non fil, we cannot expect that the evil can be remedied by Congress or Convention. Yet the Postal Department has fair cause of complaint. Thus much might be required, that all the supernumerary spots answering to the same hail should be compelled to change their titles.
"And we make taws and whips out of his thick hide to correct little boys, if they have too much to say sometimes," remarked Fil's father, who winked at me, showing that his words were more severe than were his intentions or acts. Like the terrier, he just liked to frighten people; his bark was worse than his bite, as the saying is. "Let us stop here," begged Fil.
"I wish I knew shorthand," grumbled Ingred, comparing scribbles with Verity as the girls tidied their hair for tea. "How anybody's expected to get down all Miss Strong tells us, I can't imagine! It's impossible." "I don't try," admitted Fil.
You'll just press a knob for each word, you know!" "There are about 3000 words in common daily use!" laughed Verity. "If you need a knob for each, your typewriter will have to be the size of a church organ. It'll want a room to itself!" "Oh, but think of the convenience of it! No more hunting in the dictionary!" declared Fil.
"You should use oil or gas for fuel, and should press every drop of sugar out of that valuable cane. Waste not; want not, is as good a maxim for a nation as for a boy." "If you are always that serious, like a lecturer, the children may not like you so well," remarked the gentle Padre. "Not at all," replied Fil and Moro and Filippa and Favra, who perhaps remembered the pennies I had given to them.
She certainly had a piece of interesting news to confide. "Did you know that a ghost haunts the garden?" "No! Oh, I say, where?" "That part by the sun-dial. I've heard it called 'The Nun's Walk!" "So have I; but I never knew there was a ghost!" "It's supposed to walk on moonlight nights." "How fearfully thrillsome!" "I've never seen a ghost!" shivered Fil.
An idea had struck him which made him choke with mirth. "That's it, that's it, Saint Anthony and his pig. There's my pig!" And the three servants burst out laughing in their turn. The old fellow was so pleased that he had the brandy brought in, good stuff, 'fil en dix', and treated every one.
"The end pursued incessantly by all lofty, generous, independent spirits some acting, like you, my dear young lady, from passion, from instinct, without perhaps explaining to themselves the high mission they are called on to ful, fil.
Fil was quite a good little actress, and produced what she considered her pièce de résistance. She had spent her summer holidays in Somerset, and had there picked up a local ballad which dealt with the legend in dialect. She brought out a verse of it now with great effect: "Cusn't ee zee the ca-akes, man? And cusn't ee zee 'em burrn? I'se warrant ee eat 'em fast enough, Zoon as it be ee turn!"
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