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Updated: May 15, 2025
There was Hattie, leaning on Helen's arm, and waving her handkerchief, which was scarcely whiter than that thin white face of hers; and there was his mother gazing after him with steadfast eyes of affection and blessing, while her hands were fully occupied in restraining that small but fiery patriot, Willie, who, with his cap over his eyes, was vehemently struggling to go with his bwother Fwank.
Dermot and Muriel anxiously awaiting him. "Mumsie! Hallo, Mumsie! Here's me. Fwank shooted bad dog," cried Eileen, waving her arms and kicking her bearer violently in her excitement. "Yes, Mumsie, Frank killded the nasty dog that wanted to eat us," added Brian. Wargrave passed the children over the wall into the anxious arms outstretched for them, then vaulted into the garden.
"Mamma says she spoils my brother, do you think anything could, Miss Bell? Look at him, isn't he like a little angel?" "Gad, I was quite wight," said the Baronet. "He has cwied, and he has got it, you see. Go it, Fwank, old boy." "Sir Francis is a very judicious parent," Miss Amory whispered. Don't you think so, Miss Bell? I shan't call you Miss Bell I shall call you Laura.
"Come," called his father, at the door; "if we are going to catch this car, we must be off." So Frank abbreviated his adieus, and ran. "Wait, wait!" screamed Willie, pulling his cap on "Me go, me go!" "Go where, you little witch?" cried Helen. "Me go to war, along with my bwother Fwank.
And now he found the little fellow dividing his attentions between his breakfast and his toy gun, which had acquired a new interest in his eyes since Helen had told him Frank was going to the war. "I'm going with my bwother Fwank," he declared, shouldering arms over his johnny-cake. "And if any body any webel" breathing earnestly "hurt my bwother Fwank, me shoot 'em me will!"
"He has his reasons, ce cher prince: he will tell you nothing; but I will. You know that I am au mieux with the dear old duchess." "They say Frank and she are engaged after the duke's death," cried Poldoody. "I always thought Fwank was the duke's illicit gweatgwandson," drawled out De Boots.
And turning, he saw little Willie running towards him, almost between the legs of the policemen stationed to keep back the crowd. If ever "bwother Fwank" felt a thrill of joy, it was then.
But, suddenly, as he was casting his eyes for the twentieth time along the lines of spectators, searching for some familiar face, he heard a voice not father's or mother's, or sister's, but one scarcely less dear than the dearest. "My bwother Fwank! me want my bwother Fwank!"
"Yes," remarked Helen, "you and Frank will put down the rebellion, I've not the least doubt." This was meant for a sly hit at Frank's youthful patriotism; but Willie took it quite seriously. "Yes," he lisped; "me and Fwank we put down the webellion. Take aim!" pointing his toy at his father's nose. "Fire! bang! See, me kill a webel."
This royal flattery won the child over to his new friend immediately. "Me go to war with my bwother Fwank! dwum, and scare webels!" panting earnestly over his important little story, which the captain was obliged to cut short. "Well, Frank, I suppose you would like to spend the rest of the time with your friends. Be at the Old Colony depot at five o'clock.
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