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Updated: May 20, 2025
The body of a defunct four-wheeler blocked up half the entrance, and a retriever came out of his kennel at the other end and barked savagely. "That's the house," said Wilson, indicating it "number five. What's the matter?" For Miss Gething, after making little dabs with her handkerchief at lips which did not require the attention, was furtively applying it to eyes which did.
He considered the horse unworthy of any distinction, but in his desire to please Geth, took pains to prepare Cuddy for his death and burial. Gething was still at the big house although it was four o'clock and the men on Break-Neck Hill were busy with their digging. Willet called them the sextons. "And we, Joey," he addressed a stable boy, "we're the undertakers. Handsome corpse, what?"
In less rapid times, before the invention of the electric telegraph and other scientific luxuries, Captain Gething would have remained quietly on board the Seamew, and been delivered to his expectant family without any further trouble. As it was, the message in which Captain Wilson took such pride, reached Mrs. Gething just as Mr.
Gething dropped into a disconsolate silence, interrupted before long by Willet. "Happiness will get Cuddy's box she's in a stall. Cuddy was always mean to her used to go out of his way to kick her and she, sweet as a kitten." "So you'll give her his box in revenge?" "Revenge? Oh, no sir. Just common sense."
Not going to church this morning." This from a friend of his mother. "Good morning. No, not this morning." He met a chum. "Good riding day, eh?" "Great." "Well, Geth, don't break your neck." "You bet not." "I'll put a P.S. on the prayer for you," said the wag. "Thanks a lot." The wag was always late even to church on Easter morning. So Gething knew the tail of the deluge was reached and past.
He thrust the revolver back in his pocket hastily for a child had stopped to look at him, then slowly rose and fell to pacing the gravel walk. A jay screamed overhead, "Jay, jay, jay!" "You fool," Geth called to him and then muttered to himself. "Fool, fool oh, Geth " From the boulevard a voice called him. "Mr. Gething if you please, sir !" It was Willet the trainer. "All right, Willet."
"I'm not coming with you, cap'n," he said as that ardent mariner passed them rolling a barrel along the deck. "A' right," said the other briefly; "you won't get your money back." In a shamefaced fashion Captain Gething, still holding his daughter's arm, stepped on board the Seamew and shook hands with its master.
Tillotson, having got matters on a business footing, went, and, carelessly twisting his small moustache, slowly approached the schooner, on the deck of which was a small boy. "Is Captain Gething aboard, old man?" inquired Mr. Tillotson, in a friendly voice. "Down the cabin, I b'lieve," said Henry, jerking his thumb. "I should like to see him," said Mr. Tillotson.
The trainer was mounted holding a lean greyhound of a horse. Gething pulled down the stirrups. "I meant to tell you to bring Cuddy for me to ride, last time, you know." "Not that devil. I could never lead him in. Frenchman, here, is well behaved in cities." Gething swung up. He sat very relaxed upon a horse. There was a lifetime of practice behind that graceful seat and manner with the reins.
"I wish you'd trust me," he said earnestly. "You'll be safer in London than anywhere." Captain Gething pondered. "There's a schooner about half a mile up the river, which is getting away about one o'clock this morning," he said slowly. "I've worked on her once or twice, and the skipper might take us if you can pay him well. He knows me as Stroud."
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