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The conversation above recorded took place on the day after Mr. Larkspur's interview with Honoria. Three days afterwards, Reginald Eversleigh and his cousin met at the club, for the purpose of going together to inspect the hunters on sale at Mr. Spavin's repository, in the Brompton Road. Dale's mail-phaeton was waiting before the door of the club, and he drove his cousin down to the repository.
"I never thought they could row like that," was Larkspur's comment. "I don't think I want to row against them again." Dick and Tom were warmly congratulated by all their friends. It had been a well-earned victory, and they were correspondingly happy. Koswell was sourer than ever against them, and vowed he would "square up" somehow, and Larkspur agreed to help him.
The footman, who had directed the unknown visitor by the way past the stables to the lower road, did not remember that circumstance and so it did not come to Mr. Larkspur's knowledge. When the party who had led the search for Lionel Dale returned to the rectory, and the worst was known, Mr.
This was a short step-ladder upon which Larkspur and several others were standing, and over the ladder went with a crash, sending the hazers to the floor of the hallway in a heap. "Get the hose," whispered Tom, who had followed his brother, and while the sophomores were endeavoring to get up, he caught the squirming hose and wrenched it, nozzle and all, from Bart Larkspur's hand.
Aaron's crazy about the flag." "'Cause he fought for it, mebbe." "Yes, I guess. His father died for it at Gettysburg, the same place where Aaron lost his leg. . . . The only thing is, the larkspur's getting ahead of the poppies seems like the larkspur couldn't wait" her voice continued low "I always love to see the larkspur come." "I too," said the child.
Larkspur; "that's very odd: I know of nothing up at present for which they should send any one to me here. However," and he rose as he spoke, "I suppose I had better see this person. Where is he?" "In the hall," replied Jane. But Lady Eversleigh interposed to prevent Mr. Larkspur's departure. "Pray do not go," she said, "unless it concerns this business, unless it is news of my child.
No stranger had been seen to join the hunt that day, or noticed lurking about Hallgrove that morning, and Mr. Larkspur's own reliable eyes had assured him that Carrington was not among the recipients of the rector's hospitality on Christmas-day.
Larkspur's office he underwent a rigid inspection by that gentleman's "deputy," and having, by a few hints as to the nature of his business, led that astute person to think that it bore on his principal's present quest, he was entrusted with the address of Mr. Andrews, in Percy Street. "So, you see, I don't get my five hundred, because I didn't find out Captain Jernam's murderer," said Mr.
"I may as well give you some preliminary instructions to-day," she said, re-assuming her business-like tone, "and I will write you a cheque for the first month of your service." Mr. Larkspur lost no time in providing his visitor with pen and ink. She took a cheque-book from her pocket, and filled in a cheque for eighty pounds in Andrew Larkspur's favour. The cheque was signed "Harriet Eden."
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