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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Who's there?" cried Bob Hopley's voice. "Only us, Bob," I said. "Are you hurt?" "Nay, lad, not a bit. I should ha' been, though, if Mr Lomax hadn't knocked up the barrel with his stick and then downed the man." "You've murdered my mate," came from close by our feet. "You've shot him." "First time I ever did shoot anything without a gun," said the keeper.
Interruptions in this world of uncertainty are not uncommon, and in the African wilds they are peculiarly frequent. The interruption which occurred on the present occasion to Dr Hopley's reply was, we need scarcely remark, exceedingly opportune.
I suggested. "No, no. I can't wait. I never could. It's horrid having to wait. Here, I know. It's lunch-time, and we're here. Let's go into Polly Hopley's and eat cakes and drink ginger-beer till it's time to go." "Very well," I said, willingly enough, for walking had made me thirsty. "I haven't got any money, but Polly will trust me." "I've got some," I ventured to observe.
I did not know then, but I know now, that it was Polly Hopley's fault, and that her turnovers and cake were far too rich to be eaten in quantity by two boys sitting up in bed, and going to sleep directly after, in spite of the crumbs and scales of crust. I just remember that I had a bad night, full of unpleasant dreams, all connected with the cricket match in some way.
"No, not now, I'm showing him round. We'll come another time, and bring you some tobacco, and you shall tell us the story about the fight with the Indian rajahs." "To be sure I will, lads. Where are you going now?" "Going? Let's see. Oh, I know. We'll go to Polly Hopley's." "Ah, I suppose so. You boys are always going to Polly Hopley's. Good-bye."
Two or three days afterwards, in one of our strolls, when we were both coming back laden with odds and ends for the museum up in the loft, Mercer proposed that we should cross a field and get into the lower lane, so as to call at Polly Hopley's to get something to eat.
He held up a big oaken stick, and, thoroughly in accord, we all started off at a trot, and in a very short time were in the lane where Bob Hopley's lodge stood. "He's off somewhere at the other side of the estate," whispered Lomax, "and they've watched him go. I say, don't you boys come near if there's a row." "Hist! Who's that?" said a familiar voice out of the darkness. "Father?"
"He isn't well, and I gave him a dose this morning." "You did?" I said. "You hit him?" "No, no," said the boy, laughing. "I often do though a miserable sneak. I gave him a dose of medicine. He had been eating too many of Polly Hopley's cakes. My father is a doctor!" he added importantly. "Oh!" I said. "I say, do listen. Did you ever hear such a whine?"
He promised to return on the third day from his departure; but on the nature of the measures he intended to adopt, or the hopes he entertained of success, he was inflexibly silent; and he moreover especially requested that no one, not even Miss Brandon, should know of Susan Hopley's journey to the metropolis. Mr.
I've been down to Polly Hopley's, and bought a lot of her turnovers and some sweet tuck. I want to send it up to you. Haven't you any string?" I made no reply. "Frank! I say: I know: tear up your handkerchiefs. I'll give you some of mine to make up. Tie the bits together so as to make a long string, and let it down. Frank!" "Go away, you miserable, cowardly sneak!"
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