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Updated: May 11, 2025
Excuse them, please; don't mind me." Still he is persistent. "From son to son's son, and the women left anywhere and anyhow that is the Pemberthy law, I expect. I have seen the workings of such a law before. Not that I ought to complain," he adds, with a forced laugh, a laugh that Mrs. Pemberthy seems suddenly to remember, "for I have profited thereby."
"Yes; try and remember when that was. I only come to look at the old place and you, just for once, before I go away again. Try and think, Mistress Pemberthy, as I used to call you." She looks into the red, sunburnt face, starts, blushes, and looks away. "Yes, I remember. You are " "Well?" "Captain Guy!"
"And the rest of the men would kill us, the brutes," said Mrs. Pemberthy. "Yes, they'd better come in." "Lord have mercy upon us," said Mrs. Tarne. "There's no help for it," said Mrs. Pemberthy. "Even Reuben would not have dared to keep them out. I mind now their coming like this twenty years agone. It was "
There is no occasion for alarm; my friends are noisy, but harmless, I assure you, and the favour of admittance and entertainment here will be duly appreciated. To refuse your hospitality the hospitality of a Pemberthy is only to expose yourselves to considerable inconvenience, I fear." "Spoken like a book, Captain."
They had battened down the last spadeful of new-dug earth, and once again there was a storm-bred mound in Trewithen churchyard. The three old comrades stood together in silence looking down on it, making little or no attempt to hide the sorrow that was theirs. Then Tom Pemberthy said, drawing his hand across his tear-dimmed eyes: "Us'll miss ur simple wa-ays, sure 'nuff!"
He paused. "I beg your pardon," he said, in a low tone of voice, "but but I am powerless to help you unless I quell these wolves at once. They are going off for more drink." "What is to be done?" "Can you sing, Mistress Pemberthy?" "Yes, a little; at least, they say so," she said, blushing at her own self-encomium. "Sing something to gain time.
Sophie was not of a nervous temperament; indeed, for her eighteen years, was apparently a little too cool and methodical; and she was not flurried that evening over the delay in the arrival home of Reuben Pemberthy. She was not imaginative like her mother, and did not associate delay with the dangers of a dark night, though the nights were full of danger in the good old times of the third George.
And folks do say, Finchley way, that pretty Mistress Pemberthy will be Lady Isshaw before the winter sets in, and that it will be exactly fifteen years since these two first set eyes upon each other. The events which I am about to relate took place between nine and ten years ago.
"Mistress Pemberthy will perhaps kindly trust us for a while with the keys of the stables and corn-bins." "They are here," said Sophie, detaching them from a bunch of keys which, in true housewifely fashion, hung from her girdle. "The farm servants are away in the village, or they should help you, sir." "We are in the habit of helping ourselves-very much," said one of the highwaymen, drily.
I will slip away while you are singing, and get the horses round to the front door. Do not be afraid." "Gentlemen," he cried, in a loud voice, and bringing the handle of his pistol smartly on the head of the man nearest to him to emphasise his discourse, "Mistress Pemberthy will oblige the company with a song. Order and attention for the lady!"
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