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One official told me its proper locomotive was at East Grinstead, and that we might not get it. Perhaps its home was there. And yet another official whose face was as mysterious as that of the station clock, which was wearing a paper mask, said that the engine of my train had, in fact, gone. It had gone to Brighton. He did not know why. It had gone alone.
I can't quite explain, but to be with Geraldine Grinstead makes one feel one's self to be of a ruder, more selfish mould, and I know I have not been all I ought to be at Rockstone; but I don't mind telling you, now you are so soon to be at home, Aunt Jane seems to worry me -I can't tell how, exactly -while there is something about Geraldine that soothes and brightens, and all the time makes one long to be better.
During this time, several small towns began to spring up in the old forest region, of which the chief are Midhurst, Petworth, Billinghurst, Horsham, Cuckfield, and East Grinstead. Many of the deserted smelting-places may still be seen, with their invariable accompaniment of a pond or dam. The wood supply began to fail as early as Elizabeth's reign, but iron was still smelted in 1760.
"The Pursuivant? It has such good literary articles." "Oh, yes! Mrs. Grinstead and Canon Harewood write them. His wife is a daughter of old Dr. May rather a peculiar person, but very jolly in her way." "But would they like to have Agatha imposed upon them?" "Certainly; they are just the people to like nothing better, and it will only be for a fortnight. I have settled it all with them."
But there's a pipe at your service in my room." "Dr. Medlicott is coming," said Babie, who had tarried behind the Johns, "and perhaps Mr. Grinstead, and we are sure to have Mr. Esdale's photographs. It is never all students, medical or otherwise. Much better than Allen's smoke, Cecil." "I am coming of course," he said. "I was only waiting for the Infanta."
"The truth is," said Lance, "that this is my sister's first bazaar, and so dear is the work to the female mind, that she can't help being sucked into the vortex." "Is it really?" demanded Mysie, in a voice that made Mrs. Grinstead laugh and say "Such is my woeful lack of experience." "We have fallen on a bazaar wherever we went," said Lady Merrifield.
Wherewith came on the question of raffles, an inexhaustible one, since some maintained that they were contrary to English law, and were absolutely immoral, while others held that it was the only way of disposing of really expensive articles. These were two statues sent by Mrs. White, and an exquisite little picture by Mrs. Grinstead, worth more than any one could be expected to give.
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