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Updated: June 25, 2025
Pemrose knew that her father's thoughts were taken up all the time with that summit breeze, on how far it might affect the safe return of the golden egg, as he hovered about the low platform, a hundred feet away, on which the little Thunder Bird was mounted, together with his young assistant tightening up every bolt and screw for the record flight.
Yet, after all, Pemrose only half heard the Scoutmaster's explanation of how the insect chose a floating stick or straw as a nucleus, placed her forelegs on it and laid the egg upon her hind ones, holding it there until she had brought forth another to join it, gluing the two together by their sticky coating, and so on till the broad and buoyant boat was constructed!
"I don't believe that Dad has slept for two nights now, thinking about its safe return," said Pemrose to Una, as in the starless, breeze-tickled night the two crouched together upon the mountain-top.
The uncurling fists were outflung passionately. "I can't! I can't!" cried Pemrose Lorry, choking upon her own wishbone. "I I'm not in the humor for it for foolery! I must go on right on and search! This this is the shortest trail down the mountain, if it's the roughest I know that!" She looked desperately at old Andrew.
This contribution came, piecemeal, from several feasting mouths together. "Oh! the Housatonic blue Hous-a-tonic!" Pemrose bent demurely over her flapjack and cocoa, curling her toes under her as she recalled her view of it from the Devil's Chair. "And what about the second Get Together when is that to be?" she asked. "A week from Saturday: Jubilate!
She saw that her friend Pemrose, no relation at all to this extraordinary uncle, could care for him and welcome him without embarrassment, while, with every doubtful glance in his direction, she felt, still, as if she did not quite know whether she was on her head or her heels.
"He has has all sorts of nerve," agreed Pemrose readily, glancing sideways after the boy whose courage she knew to be as high as his colors. "The Scoutmaster wouldn't hear of our venturing in so far as to investigate that running water, anyhow," said Studley. "My eye! What's the rumpus now the kettle o' fish?" It was a shriek from one girl half-a-dozen girls.
Those eyes were now fastened to the back of the nickum's close-cropped head, to his broad shoulders in a rough, gray sweater, noting a certain "bully" shrug of those shoulders at the surrounding landscape, as if, monarch of all he surveyed, he yet felt himself a usurper in his present seat. "Something rotten something rotten in the State of Denmark!" crowed Pemrose softly.
Pemrose, with her blue eyes under jet-black lashes girdled, moreover, with her father's growing fame Una, with lighter eyelashes and hair, and that little fixed star of angry excitement blazing in one sweet dark eye, they were the kind of girls whose good graces a boy would be the last to spurn, fair even for daughters of Columbia who, democratic in beauty, as in all else, never hatches out an ugly duckling.
"So you're not only gifted as a 'merle', you sing as a girl, too!" said Pemrose presently, nestling nearer to the maiden with the whistle in her green breast-pocket. "You must love birds very much in order to imitate a thrush-song like that."
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