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"And the mural decorations which one of you did those?" I remarked, as a long pause came stealing in. "Did you hear what Mr. Littlejourneys asked?" called White Pigeon to the others. "No; what was it?" "He wants to know which one of us decorated the walls!" "Mr. Littlejourneys meant illumined the walls," jerked Peachblow, over her shoulder.
But White Pigeon explained that we only came on a quiet picnic in search of ozone and had dropped in to make a little call before we went on up to the forest. But could we see the horses? Antoine would be most delighted to show Monsieur Littlejourneys anything that was within his power. In fact, everything hereabouts was the absolute property of Monsieur Littlejourneys to do with as he pleased.
I'm not ashamed for Monsieur Littlejourneys to know!" said Soubrette with a pretty pout; "I'm from Lyons, and my mother and Madame Rosalie used to know each other years ago." "Will Madame Rosalie, as you call her, ever come here again?" "Perhaps." "Then I'll camp right here till she comes!" "You might stay a year and then be disappointed." "Then can't we go to see her?"
Old Brick-Dusty climbed down to see a man in the tavern, and the Michigan contingent and Colonel Littlejourneys slid down the other side and went into Wythburn Church. There isn't another church in England so peculiar and so interesting. A pew is marked sacred to Wordsworth, and one also to Harriet Martineau, who I did not know before ever went to church.
"Colonel Littlejourneys is making fun of you, General," said Little Emily; "the Colonel is talking about the man, and you are discussing trotters!" And then I apologized, but the General said it was he who should make the apology, and raising the carriage-seat brought out a box of genuine Henry Clay Havanas, in proof of amity. It's a very foolish thing to smile at a man who rides a hobby.
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