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Updated: May 26, 2025
The morning was now again dawning, and Henry earnestly entreated Mr. Marchdale to go to bed, which he did, leaving the two brothers to continue as sentinels by Flora's bed side, until the morning light should banish all uneasy thoughts.
"Nurse often lets me have some with her; and Katie fills Flora's doll's teapot out of her own, almost every afternoon." "Bless my soul!" cried Lord Carse, starting from his seat in consternation. "My servants drink tea in my house! Off they shall go every one of them who does it." "Oh! papa. No; pray papa!" implored Janet. "They will say I sent them away. Oh!
Let him know the precise situation and circumstances of the family by all means. There is nothing so mischievous as secrecy: I have the greatest dislike to it. I beg you tell him all." "I will; and with it, Henry, I will tell him that my heart is irrevocably Flora's."
When I am in your way, or Flora's " "That will never be! I say, Flora, will she ever be in our way?" "No, indeed! Meta and I understand that," said Flora, looking up. "Well, I suppose Bruce can't be trusted to value the books and prints." Dr.
"Who said you did? And I know you don't like to wear those short stockings, either." "Like to!" Arnold gave a spiteful kick, first of one half-bared, dimpled leg, then of the other. "First thing you know I'll steal mamma's or Aunt Flora's stockings and throw these in the furnace-I will. Do you s'pose a feller wants to wear these baby things? I guess not. Women are awful queer, Johnny Trumbull.
"I wish there were more of them there." "I didn't know there were so many pins in the world," said Jem. "Pooh!" said Baby. "Those are only the lost ones that have belonged to our family." After this they went back to Flora's room and sat down, while Flora told Jem the rest of her story. "Oh!" sighed Jem, when she came to the end. "How delightful it is to be here! Can I never come again?"
I approved his caution, and he took himself away: leaving me in a mixture of contrarious feelings, part ashamed to have played on one so gullible, part raging that I should have burned so much incense before the vanity of England; yet, in the bottom of my soul, delighted to think I had made a friend or, at least, begun to make a friend of Flora's brother.
You have taken pet at some of Flora's prudery, or high-flying notions of loyalty, and now, like a child, you quarrel with the plaything you have been crying for, and beat me, your faithful keeper, because my arm cannot reach to Edinburgh to hand it to you.
So meditated Meta, as she copied one of her own drawings of the Grange, for her dear old governess, Mrs. Larpent, while each line and tint recalled the comments of her fond amateur father, and the scenery carried her home, in spite of the street sounds, and the scratching of Flora's pen, coursing over note-paper. Presently Sir Henry Walkinghame called, bringing a beautiful bouquet.
As Flora's good nature shone in the case, Clennam had no fault to find with the old lady for eliciting it, now that he was relieved from the terrors of her presence; and they took a glass or two of wine in peace.
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