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"You see how we are bullied," Ricky appealed to Charity. "Of course you're going to stay," she swept aside the other's protests. "What's food for, if not to feed your friends? Val, go wash up; your hands are frightful. I don't care if you did wash once; go and " "This is her little-mother-of-the-family mood," her younger brother explained to Charity.
Without a word, Rupert drew out a chair and scrambled up. Taking from Ricky's hands the ancient weapon, he slipped it into the niche their pirate ancestor had made for it. In spite of the years underground, the metal of hilt and blade was clear. Seven hundred years of history their Luck! "Everything will come right again," Val repeated as Ricky came back to him. "You'll see.
At the resulting gurgle from within, he set it by the door and returned to rob the cot of pillow and the single coarse but clean sheet. Ricky tore the sheet and made a creditable job of washing and bandaging the ugly bruise. Jeems drank greedily when they offered him water but he did not seem to recognize them.
Do you suppose we could go swimming in the bayou?" "I don't see why not." Val guided the roadster into a side street. "Where's that map of the city? We've got to see how to get back on to North Rampart from here." "I'll look." Ricky bent her head and so she did not see the two figures walking close together and so rapt in conversation that the one on the curb side brushed against a lamp-post.
There was only one thing to do now reach Rupert and the others and prepare to meet these skulkers in the open. But before they had quite crossed the room Ricky came to grief. She caught her foot in one of those gruesome chains and stumbled forward, falling on her hands and knee. The noise of her fall echoed around the low chamber with betraying clamor.
Whin th' picnic got as far as Punch, on th' southern coast iv Porther Ricky, Gin'ral Miles gazes out, an' says he, 'This looks like a good place to hang th' hammicks, an' have lunch, says he. 'Forward, brave men, says he, 'where ye see me di'mon's sparkle, says he. 'Forward, an' plant th' crokay ar-rches iv our beloved counthry, he says.
"And Jeems may show up even if it is late. So my conscience says 'No. Unfortunately I do possess a regular rock-ribbed New England conscience." "Rupert will be back by four," said Ricky. "Will your conscience let you come over for coffee with us then? You see how quickly we have adopted the native customs coffee at four."
For no trace of the thing which had troubled the house remained. Ricky hesitated between believing wholly in Val's tale or just in his powers of imagination. And between them his family drove him sulky to bed. He was still frowning, or maybe it was a new frown, when he looked into the bathroom mirror the next morning as he dressed.
What's the matter, boy?" "You saw him there?" "Hunting Diana, I suppose. He thinks she's not so chaste as they say," continued Adrian. "Are you going to knock down that tree?" Richard had turned to the cypress, and was tugging at the tough wood. He left it and went to an ash. "You'll spoil that weeper," Adrian cried. "Down she comes! But good-night, Ricky. If you see Benson mind you tell him."
Only it didn't turn out the way they had planned." "Due to you?" Rupert eyed his brother intently. The boy's face was swollen almost out of recognition and he didn't like this sudden talkativeness. "Due partly to me, but mostly to Ricky. She ah created the necessary diversion. I had sort of lost interest at the time. I know so little about gouging and biting in clinches." "Dirty fighters?"
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