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Updated: June 6, 2025
"I'll send Joe one way, and drive the other way myself in the pony-cart. They can't have got far yet." He hurried out of the garden, and Mrs Vallance was left alone with her prize. It was almost too good to be true.
For it had pleased certain persons of importance lately to come to loggerheads without any consideration for the welfare of Master Vallance, and in trying to peer through the dust of their broils on the possible future for England and himself, he could prognosticate little good for either.
"Bless her pretty little 'art!" said the cook, and went away. It was evening when Mr Vallance returned, hot, tired, and vexed in spirit. His wife ran out to meet him at the gate, having first sent the child upstairs. "No trace whatever," he said in a dejected voice.
And you couldn't either. You couldn't give up a little helpless child when Heaven has laid it at your very threshold." Mr Vallance strode quickly up and down the garden path; he foresaw that he would have to yield, and it made him very angry. "Nonsense, my dear," he said testily; "people are much too fond of talking about Heaven doing this and that.
For the persons of importance whose bickerings so grievously interested Master Vallance were on the one side his most sacred and gracious Majesty King Charles I., and on the other a number of units as to whose powers or purposes Master Vallance entertained only the most shadowy notions, but who were disagreeably familiar to him in a term of mystery as the Parliament.
He was either young or old; cheap lodging-houses had flavoured him mustily; razors and combs had passed him by; in him drink had been bottled and sealed in the devil's bond. He begged a match, which is the form of introduction among park benchers, and then he began to talk. "You're not one of the regulars," he said to Vallance. "I know tailored clothes when I see 'em.
"And your old enemy the great turkey gobbler was found dead on the ground," added Mr Vallance. Mary breathed again. If it were only the turkey gobbler. "Was anything else killed?" she asked in a trembling voice. "How they managed it I can't think," repeated Mr Vallance; "and they appear to have got clear off with their spoil, there's no trace of them."
Mrs Vallance laid her on the sofa, and sat near with her work, but she could not settle at all quietly to it. Every moment she got up to look out of the window, or to listen to some sound which might be Austin coming back triumphant with news of the gypsies. But the day went on and nothing happened.
Her mind was so full of this as the day went on that everything else seemed like a sort of dream; she heard Mrs Vallance talking to her, and answered, but so absently that her mother looked at her in surprise. "She is certainly very much over-tired," she said to herself; "I always knew that Maskells was not a place for the children, and I shall tell Mrs Chelwood so."
"I believe I've already remarked," said Vallance, laughing, "that I would have thought that a man who was expecting to come into a fortune on the next day would be feeling pretty easy and quiet." "It's funny business," philosophized Ide, "about the way people take things, anyhow. Here's your bench, Dawson, right next to mine. The light don't shine in your eyes here.
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