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And Rachel's eyes well, there! no one would ever have suspected that they had only been accustomed to the squalor of Gran's apartment, and Gran herself, but one short week ago.
"No, my dear boy," says the Major. "Everything we have is hers, and we are hers." "Hers ever affectionately and devotedly J. Jackman, and J. Jackman Lirriper," cries the Young Rogue giving me a close hug. "Very well then godfather. Look here. As Gran is in the Legacy way just now, I shall make these stories a part of Gran's Legacy. I'll leave 'em to her. What do you say godfather?"
"An' ses she to me, she ses," went on the girl, indifferent to her grandmother's interruption, "'Get me some paper an' a pencil, an' I'll write a note to 'im, I will. So I goes an' gits 'er what she arsks fur out of gran's box." "Stole it, cuss ye," shrieked the old hag, shaking her fist. "Hold your tongue," said Kilsip, in a peremptory tone.
"Goodness! that owl is as big as a turkey!" gasped Ruth, clinging to Ann in her fright. "Bigger," announced Curly. "Old Scratch! I'd like to shoot him and have him stuffed." "I'd rather have some of the turkey stuffing," chuckled Ann Hicks. "Owl would be rather tough, I reckon." "Oh, not to eat!" scoffed Curly. "I'd put him in Gran's parlor. And that reminds me of an owl story "
Gran says she thinks she rather likes it. 'I shouldn't wonder if she did, said Merton. 'But what is her real name? 'She made me promise not to tell. She was staying at the Home Farm when we were staying at Gran's. 'Is Gran your grandmother? 'Yes, replied Mr. Apsley. Hereon Bats remarked that she was 'velly hungalee. 'To be sure, said Merton.
"I would be a nice 'un, I would," said Sal, with a scorn, "after her lifting me out of the gutter, to round on her a poor girl like me, without a friend or a relative, now Gran's dead." Calton looked up quickly. It was plain Sal was quite ignorant that Rosanna Moore was her mother.
Several Aunties who lived "along Gran's street and along the next and over the field" had to be left out. As soon as postcard writing palled a sailor came along providentially, took him to see the hen coops, and let him find two eggs that had been laid. Marcella wrote long letters home; only to Wullie did she mention Louis, and even to him she said very little.
Gerhard Gran's broad-minded appeal cannot fail to arouse echoes. I have read it with lively sympathy. He displays the virtue of modesty, so rare in our day. How noble, too, are his tones of frankness and gratitude! "Among all the nations, ours is perhaps the one which has the greatest duty to perform, for our nation owes most to the others.
And a little voice, so warm, so close, it half stifled her it seemed to be in her breast under her heart laughed out, and said, "I'm gran's boy!" At that moment there was a sound of steps, and the literary gentleman appeared, dressed for walking. "Oh, Mrs. Parker, I'm going out." "Very good, sir." "And you'll find your half-crown in the tray of the inkstand." "Thank you, sir."
Some stores had been spoilt in consequence. On the morning of 12th November the party found what they sought Scott's tent, snowed up and presenting a cairn-like appearance. From Gran's diary the following is taken: "It has happened horrible, ugly fate, only 11 miles from One Ton Depot, Scott, Wilson, and Birdie. All ghastly.
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