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Pounce to the Lumber Yard, and, on our entry, we observed a man in the crowd round the cook-house deliberately smoking. The Chief Constable of the Island my old friend Troke, of Port Arthur seeing that this exhibition attracted Pounce's notice, pointed out the man to an assistant. The assistant, Jacob Gimblett, advanced and desired the prisoner to surrender the pipe.
Beth, as she listened to these meanderings of his fancy, and recalled old Vicar Richardson and the house full of children, thought of Mr. Pounce's remarks about feminine accuracy. "But had you no girl-friend?" she asked. "Only the lady of my dreams," he answered. "There was no other lady I should have looked at in the place. I was always refined. I met the lady of my dreams eventually.
"Mr. Alfred Cayley Pounce's sometime intellectual affinity." "Poor Alfred! he is too crude!" Beth ejaculated. "How I have outgrown him!" Ideala called next day, and found Angelica alone. "I hear that Beth is with you?" she said. "What is she doing?" "Writing a book." "What kind of a book?" "Not a book for babes, I should say," said Angelica.
Pyke Pounce's delightful drawing-room, most certainly he had been there less than a month ago and most certainly he would present himself again on the very next opportunity. To-morrow, was it? He would without fail present himself there tomorrow, "and I hope," said Mr. Simcox, taking his leave, "I hope I may have the pleasure of seeing my postmistress there again."
Now next term, when you are one of the mistresses at Oakwood House and living at their table and you have soup, you'll be able to say for you must speak up when you are with them, dear child, and not be shy you'll be able to tell them what delicious soup you always get at your Uncle Colonel Pyke Pounce's. Won't you, Pyke?" Be sure to, dear.
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