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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Bimbi says maybe he's going to be my daddy one day didn't you, Bimbi?" said his little lordship, climbing up on to "Bimbi's" knee and snuggling close to him. "I say, you know, you mustn't tell secrets, old chap!" was the laughing response. "Miss Lorne will hand you over to Nursie with orders to put you to bed if you do, I know. Won't you, Miss Lorne?"
You seem to see a good many over there. They're all alike while they're at school in round coats, and after they leave school they get moustaches, and then they're all alike again." "I wish you wouldn't tease. How tall is he? Is he fair or dark? What colour are his eyes?" Lorne buried his head in his hands in a pretended agony of recollection.
"You keep your hair on, Lorne," he advised. "We ain't going to get such big changes yet. An' if we do the blooming syndicates 'll spoil 'em for us." There were even dissentients among the farmers. The voice of one was raised who had lived laborious years, and many of them in the hope of seeing his butter and cheese go unimpeded across the American line.
Bingham talked it over with Horace Williams, and both of them with Farquharson; they were all there to urge the desirability of "sawing off" upon Lorne when he found them at headquarters. Their most potent argument was, of course, the Squire and the immediate dismissal that awaited him under the law if undue influence were proved against him.
Rum, my turning up just after Miss Lorne had written you and at a time when we both are needed, wasn't it?" "Very," said Cleek, pulling out a cigarette and stretching himself full length upon the ground. "Would as soon have expected to run foul of a specimen of the Great Auk endeavouring to rear a family in the neighbourhood of Trafalgar Square. Well, what's it now, Mr. Narkom?
Looks are looks, and Lorne had plenty of them; taller by an inch than Alec, broader by two than Oliver, with a fine square head and blue eyes in it, and features which conveyed purpose and humour, lighted by a certain simplicity of soul that pleased even when it was not understood.
Give me five minutes, Miss Lorne, and I promise you a surprise."
"I haven't the least intention of giving it up," he said in a hard voice. "It's the chief pleasure in life to me. Trailing around Lorne and harrying his tenants happen to be Uncle Philip's pet enjoyments. I don't ask him to give those up. And I reserve the right to amuse myself in my own way."
Lord Dufferin's successor in the office of governor-general was the Duke of Argyll, at that time Marquess of Lorne, who spent five interesting and, as the duke himself said more than once, pleasant years in the Dominion. The personal relations between him and the prime minister were always of the most agreeable description.
"You'll have to settle with the Doctor, Mr Finlay," Lorne warned him gaily, "if you talk politics in Knox Church. He thinks he never does." "Do you think," said Finlay, "that he would object to to one's going as far afield as I did tonight?" "He oughtn't to," said Lorne.
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