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Updated: June 20, 2025
The colour stole into his cheeks. He was immensely proud. No grown-up person had ever before spoken to him as though he was himself a grown-up person always laughing at him like Uncle Samuel, or talking down to him like Aunt Amy, or despising him like Mr. Jellybrand. But Miss Jones appealed to him simply as one grown-up to another. Unfortunately he did not in the least know what to say.
But, at this point in his explanation, the Prophet was interrupted by both his hearers. "The Jellybrand one!" cried Mr. Sagittarius. "The prophets' patron!" vociferated Madame. At these exclamations the Prophet started in some surprise. "You know this lady?" he asked. "By repute, sir," replied Mr. Sagittarius. "Who does not?" cried Madame. "She built the 'Prophets' Rest' at Birchington."
Jellybrand the curate who disapproved; how Aunt Amy had a new dress in which, by general consent, she looked ridiculous; how Mary, owing to the foolish kindness of Mrs.
"It's very rude," he said, "not to answer when gentlemen speak to you." "I don't see any gentlemen," answered Helen quietly, without raising her eyes, which was, as she knew, a provoking habit. "Yes, you do," almost screamed Jeremy. "I'm one." "You're not," continued Helen; "you're only eight. Gentlemen must be over twenty like Father or Mr. Jellybrand." "I hate Mr.
Jellybrand's tempting gleaming black trousers, he stopped, crouched like a tiger, and with teeth still bared continued his kettle-like reverberations. Aunt Amy, who hated dogs, loved Mr. Jellybrand, and was not in the least sentimental when her personal safety was in danger, cried in a shrill voice: "But take it away. Take it away. Alice, tell him. It's going to bite Mr. Jellybrand."
Jellybrand and the dog had met before; it is simply a fact that the dog, raising his eyes at the opening of the door and catching sight of the black-coated figure, forgot instantly his toilet, rose dripping from his rug, and advanced growling, his lips back, his ears out, his tail erect, towards the door. Then everything happened together. Mr.
Jellybrand was frightened as anything." "Yes, that must have been delightful," agreed Uncle Samuel. "What's his name?" "We haven't given him one yet. Wouldn't you think of one, Uncle Samuel?" The uncle considered the dog. The dog, with grave and scornful eyes, considered the uncle.
"We saw him from the window," said Jeremy quickly, "and he was shivering like anything, so we called him in to warm him." "My dear Alice, you surely don't mean " began Aunt Amy, and the Jampot said: "I really think, Mum-," and Mr. Jellybrand, in his rich voice, murmured: "Is it quite wise, dear Mrs. Cole, do you think?" With thoughts of Miss Maple she smiled upon them all.
"He's about the most hideous mongrel it's ever been my lot to set eyes on. But he has his points. He despises you all, I'm glad to see." Jeremy, as usual with Uncle Samuel, was uncertain as to his sincerity. "He looks a bit funny just now," he explained. "He's been drying on the rug. He'll be all right soon. He wanted to bite Mr. Jellybrand. It was funny. Mr.
Jellybrand and I hate you," replied Jeremy. "I don't care," said Helen. "Yes, you do," said Jeremy, then suddenly, as though even a good quarrel were not worth while on this heavily burdened afternoon, he said gently: "You might play Pirates, Helen. You can be Sir Roger." "I've got this to finish."
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