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Updated: May 9, 2025
The pathos of tone saved Miss Bertram from smiling at the comicality of the question. "I'm afraid not, dear. Not until we reach heaven." Then there was silence again, broken at last by Roy's saying in a very quiet tone, "I want to see Dudley." Miss Bertram rose from her seat, but first she stooped to kiss him. "You are quite a little hero," she said; "I will send David to you.
"'Of all sad words of tongue or pen The saddest are it might have been," quoted Priscilla tragically, lifting the cushion. "This cake is now what you might call a flat failure. And the cushion is likewise ruined. Never tell me that Friday isn't unlucky." "People who send word they are coming on Saturday shouldn't come on Friday," said Aunt Jamesina. "I fancy it was Roy's mistake," said Phil.
Not lullabies, for little Akbar's mind kept pace with his body, and every month saw him more and more of a boy and less and less of a baby. "Tell me how Râjah Rasâlu did this," or "Tell me how Râjah Rasâlu did that," he would say; and so Roy's boyish voice would go over the old story of endless adventures, which has delighted so many Indian children for so many generations.
He was often interrupted when with his pupils, but they were generally conscientious enough to go on working during his absence. But Roy's lesson this morning was not interesting, and he was unusually talkative. "It's no good trying to master this sum, it's all those nines. They're nasty, lanky, spiteful little brutes, I should like to tear them out of the sum-books."
Warde Hollister said, rather heedless of the possible effect of his remark. "I didn't come in the tent, did I?" Pee-wee retorted wistfully. "Come ahead in, Kid," said Roy. "Are you hungry? Here's some fish-hooks." "No, I'm not hungry," Pee-wee said. He had been so touched by Warde's thoughtless remark that he held himself aloof from Roy's hospitality.
I shall not turn him out to-night, if he has no home to go to; but we cannot keep a lot of idle boys about the establishment." Roy's brown eyes filled with tears. It was so rarely that he showed his feelings that his aunt began to wonder whether he was not too weak and exhausted from his walk to be talked to.
The slaughter of MacLaren, a retainer of the chief of Appine, by the MacGregors, did not take place till after Rob Roy's death, since it happened in 1736. "Nor I neither," said Iverach. Major Galbraith took up the matter more solemnly, and, premising his oration with a hiccup, spoke to the following purpose:
"Marjorie! Marjorie!" shouted her friend, "where are ye, my bonnie wee croodlin' doo?" In a moment a bright, eager child of seven was in his arms, and he was kissing her all over. Out came Mrs. Keith. "Come your ways in, Wattie." "No, not now. I am going to take Marjorie wi' me, and you may come to your tea in Duncan Roy's sedan, and bring the bairn home in your lap."
"I don't know, read what Aunt Judy says." Roy spread out his aunt's letter, and read it in unfaltering tones to the end. The letter dropped from Roy's grasp, and he flung himself down on the beach face foremost. Dudley sat staring out at the sea without speaking. The blow had fallen so heavily, and so unexpectedly, that speech was not forthcoming. At last Roy looked up.
I saw Rob Roy's gun, rifled and of very large bore; and a beautiful pistol, formerly Claverhouse's; and the sword of Montrose, given him by King Charles, the silver hilt of which I grasped.
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