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Updated: May 1, 2025
Fancy not being allowed to let off a gun. It's just what you might have expected from an old maid like Aunt Mabel, but I should have thought Valentine would have had more pluck. A fine sort of soldier he'll make the milksop!" Raymond Fosberton had for some time been running up an account in his cousin's bad books. This speech was the final entry, and caused Jack to demand an immediate settlement.
"It's precious hot still," said Raymond; "let's go and sit under that hayrick and rest." "We mustn't stay very long," Helen remarked as they seated themselves with their backs against the rick. "We want to be home in time for supper." "We can stay long enough for a smoke, I suppose," said Fosberton, producing a cigarette case. "Have one. What! don't you chaps smoke?
"He only comes here to show off. Just because he's in a lawyer's office, he thinks he's a big pot, and all he does is to write copies like a kid in the Lower School." According to his own opinion, Raymond Fosberton had blossomed out into the full-blown man.
Raymond Fosberton seemed bent on making himself as disagreeable as possible. He was still in a great rage about the broken oar, and lagged behind, refusing to speak to the rest of the party. "We ought not to let him walk by himself," said Helen, after they had gone about a mile; "it looks as if we wanted to quarrel." She stopped and turned round, but Raymond was nowhere in sight.
"I always make a mess of everything," he said to himself. "I thought I should always have had Brenlands to go to; and first of all I got chucked out of the school a year before I need have left, and then this happens about the watch. In both cases I've Raymond Fosberton to thank, in a great measure, for what happened. I'll pay him out if ever I get the chance."
He was far from being convinced of the truth of this statement. A few mornings later the usual harmony of the breakfast-table was disturbed by the arrival of a letter from Raymond Fosberton. "He writes," said Miss Fenleigh, "to say that his father and mother are going away on a visit, and so he wants to come here for a few days." The announcement was received with a chorus of groans.
Joe relapsed into silence, but for some time sudden squeaks from his pipe showed that he was still meditating on the terrible vengeance which he would mete out to Raymond Fosberton, should that gentleman leave his comfortable lodgings in England and appear unexpectedly in the Bayuda Desert. At length the morning came, and with it the report that the baggage-train was in sight.
You know them, don't you, Jack?" "Well, I've heard about them," answered the other. "I know that the guv'nor's sister married old Fosberton, and that he got a lot of money making tin tacks, or whatever it was; and now he fancies he's rather a swell, and says he's descended from William the Conqueror's sea-cook, or something of that sort.
What's your father doing now?" "I don't know," answered Jack, glancing at the clock. "I expect he's having his dinner, though there's no telling, for we're always a bit late at home." Mr. Fosberton stared at the boy, cleared his throat rather vigorously, and then turned to speak to Helen. Lunch was a very dry and formal affair.
His manners, one could well imagine, resembled those of the ferocious animal in the Fosberton crest, which capered on a sugar-stick with its tongue stuck out of its mouth, as though it were making faces at the world in general. He monopolized the conversation at table, voted croquet a bore, and spent most of his time lying under a tree smoking and reading a novel.
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