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Silly pride," said the Canadian. We crossed the common to a very regulation paradeground overlooked by a statue of our Queen. Here were carriages, many and elegant, filled with pretty women, and the railings were lined with frockcoats and top hats. "This is distinctly social," I suggested to Kyd. "Ra-ather. Our F.S. corps is nothing if not correct, but Bayley'll sweat 'em all the same."
"One licking once a week would do you an immense amount of good," he said, twinkling and shaking all over; "and, as you say, you were entirely in the right." "Ra-ather, Padre! We could have proved it if he'd let us talk," said Stalky; "but he didn't. The Head's a downy bird." "He understands you perfectly. Ho! ho! Well, you worked hard enough for it." "But he's awfully fair.
Meantime the doctor and 'Lina were walking up and down the long piazza, chatting gayly, and attracting much attention from 'Lina's loud manner of talking and laughing. "By the way, I've called on Miss Johnson, at the Columbian," she said. "Beautiful, isn't she?" "Ra-ather pretty, some would think," and the doctor had an uncomfortable consciousness of the refusal in his vest pocket.
It was just a boy." "Makes it all the finer, then. It's about the bravest thing a man can do. Why?" "Oh, I heard of a chap doin' it. That's all." "Then he's a brave man." "Would you funk it?" "Ra-ather. Anybody would. Fancy dying of diphtheria in cold blood." "Well ah! Er! Look here!"
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