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Updated: May 9, 2025
"The curates and the Samsons and everybody. Mr. Cole and his wife are comin' back next week and the servants'll take care of the rectory till they come. Everybody was so glad to see me, and they're goin' to write and everything. I declare! I felt real bad to leave 'em. They're SUCH nice people, these English folks. Aren't they, Hosy." They were and are.
Tom Lowrie, husband to Jessie, Harold's first cousin, was rather inclined to finish anything in a liquid way that he began. Harold shook his head. "Don't be foolish. That one holds only about three quarts and there's nine of us, and the servants'll want some and it isn't strong punch. It's so much more cheerful to have a lot, Evie; we don't have to drink all of it." "I say the small one."
"When I get to your place I don't believe I know the way, now I come to think of it what do I do? Ring the bell and send in my card? or smash the nearest window and climb in?" "Don't make too much row, for goodness sake. All the servants'll have gone to bed. You'll see the window of my room. It's just above the porch. It'll be the only one lighted up. Heave a pebble at it, and I'll come down."
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