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'Yes, I never was so much off my own mind, nor on other people's: and the recollection of all he owed to Mrs. Ponsonby's kindness rushing over him, he looked so much affected, that Mary was afraid of his giving way, and spoke of other matters; her mother responded, and he came away quite reassured, and believing Mrs. Frost's augury that at the next call, the invalid would be in the drawing-room.
As it was, the little vessel lay quite helpless on the sea, Evan shouted down the companion for the men to turn out for their lives. The man at the bow sounded the fog-horn loud and long. At the same instant Jim Frost's voice rang out strong and clear a warning cry. It was answered from above. There were sudden screams and cries. The fog-whistle shrieked. Engines were reversed.
It lived in Case No. 2008, and I accordingly took at once to sitting in Row B, where for the last dozen years or so I have sat ever since. The first thing I have done whenever I went to the Museum has been to take down Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians" and carry it to my seat.
Scott, was a surgeon in Frost's camp, and she was dreadfully afraid he would be killed. I reasoned with her that General Lyon was a regular officer; that if he had gone out, as reported, to Camp Jackson, he would take with him such a force as would make resistance impossible; but she would not be comforted, saying that the camp was made up of the young men from the first and best families of St.
As she spoke she glanced at Irene, who dropped a little behind, keeping hold of Miss Frost's hand. "Frosty," she said, "can you bear a little pain?" "I suppose so, dear," said poor Miss Frost in a timid voice. "I mean this: I must have some outlet for my feelings, and if a Leaf comes too near me I will just squeeze your hand.
In like manner, I believe I was the only reader who thought much one way or the other about Frost's Lives of Eminent Christians, but this in itself was one of the attractions of the book; and as for the grief we respectively felt and feel, I believe my own to be as deep as Wordsworth's, if not more so.
Imagine the delight of such fellows as Max, Bandy-legs, Steve and Toby Jucklin, all of whom loved life in the open so much, when they got the chance to further indulge this propensity, especially at the most glorious time of the whole year, when the nut crop was coming on, the trees turning red and yellow from the magical touch of Jack Frost's cold fingers, with a tang in the air that made a fellow twice as hungry as he ever got in the hot old summer-time.
When Lionel began to recover, the room was given over to him. Here he lay on the sofa; or lounged on an easy-chair; or stood at the window, his hands clasping hold of some support, and his legs as tottering as were poor old Matthew Frost's. Sometimes Lady Verner would be his companion, sometimes he would be consigned to Decima and Lucy Tempest.
All through the long, hot summer, All through the cold, dark time, With fingers that numb and number Grow, white as the frost's white rime. Nobody ever conceiving The throb of that warm, young life, Nobody ever believing The strain of that terrible strife! Nobody kind words pouring In that orphan heart's sad ear; But all of us all ignoring, What lies at our door so near!"
But in spite of this Lionel heard him whistling cheerily beside him. The boy trudged on, and every once in a while he and his invisible comrade would converse together in the most friendly manner possible, and Lionel did indeed feel encouraged by the knowledge of Jack Frost's companionship.
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