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Updated: June 1, 2025
Potter to thank," said Thomas, warmly; "only my own forethoughtedness, as you might say. The first time I ever set eyes on it I seen it was the kind that'd keep, so " From under the shielding arm Gwendolyn blinked with indignation. Her birthday cake! "Say, Miss Royle," chuckled Thomas, replenishing the chocolate cup, "that was a' awful whack you give Miss J last night."
Nicholas was delighted to find one with tastes so congenial to his own, who was so willing to hunt or fish with him who could train a hawk as well as Phil Royle, the falconer diet a fighting-cock as well as Tom Shaw, the cock-master enter a hound better than Charlie Crouch, the old huntsman shoot with the long-bow further than any one except himself, and was willing to toss off a pot with him, or sing a merry stave whenever he felt inclined.
" 'The whole lot of us ought to be paid higher wages than we're gettin' for it's a real trial to have to be under the same roof with such a provokin' " Miss Royle interrupted by vigorously bobbing her head. "Oh, that I have to make my living in this way!" she exclaimed, voice deep with mournfulness. "I'd rather wash dishes! I'd rather scrub floors! I'd rather star-r-ve!"
"The less noise the better." And with that, he lifted the small frightened thing from Gwendolyn's finger. Miss Royle, quite thrown off her poise, sank hissing to the ground. "My neuralgia's worse than ever this evening," she complained, affecting not to notice his interference. "Huh!" he grunted. "Keep away from bargain counters." The Piper came jangling up.
If things keep up an' nuffin' goes wrong, Ah'll soon hab mo' money dan dat bloated bond holder, old Stranded Royle, an' dey say he's one ob de richest Creases dere am outside ob de Raithchils. But Ah ain't nowhere nigh as rich as at gemman friend ob mine, Toots. Bah golly! Ah bet dat brack nigger has gut pretty nigh a hundred dollars salted away. He suttingly belongs to de colored narrerstocracy.
"So do I. But father has not been quite himself lately I think something troubles him." "Does he want to marry you to any one else?" Jack asked, jealously. "Is there anything of the sort between him and that young chap who comes to the house?" "I can't be certain, Jack, but sometimes I imagine so, though father has never spoken to me about it. I dislike Mr. Royle, and discourage his attentions."
"I hope you are not going to desert us, Miss Foster," Nevill replied. "Your company is preferable to the best cigar." "We will go up stairs and smoke," said Stephen Foster. "Come, Royle; my daughter would rather play the piano." The library, whither Nevill accompanied his host, was on the second floor front.
Ridley, a cricketer of the first class; Mr. Royle, the finest field, with Mr. Jardine, ever seen; Mr. Game, who had not quite come into his powers as a hitter; and Mr. Grey Tylecote, a good all-round man; also Mr. Pulman, a sterling cricketer, and Mr. Buckland, a very useful player all round. Cambridge had Mr. George Longman, who could play anything but Mr. Ridley's slows; Mr.
Others were busy hanging up limp pieces, first giving them a vigorous shake; then putting a small portion of each over the line and pinching all securely into place with huge wooden pins. It seemed cruel. Yet the faces of the maids were kind kinder than the faces of Miss Royle and Jane and Thomas. Behind Gwendolyn the heavy brocade curtains hung touching.
The people round about adore him and his wife; they are a kind of father and mother to the whole district. There would be little heard of disloyalty to the British if all the Sahibs were like Mr. Royle, He is so good I'd be almost afraid to be so good in case I died but not the least in a sickly way. Both he and his wife are very fond of books. Mrs.
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