"You had better keep them, Mr. Brownlow," she said. "The shell is
her own, and if you did not take it she is so _tenacious_ that she
would be sure to smash it to atoms."
Allen accepted perforce and proceeded with his farewells, but as he
was stooping down to kiss little five-year-old Kate Gould, something
wet, cold, and sloppy came with great force on them both, almost
knocking them down and bespattering them both with black drops. The
missile proved to be a dripping sod pulled up from the duck-pond in
the next field, and a glimpse might be caught of Elvira's scarlet
legs disappearing over the low wall between.
Over poor Mrs. Gould's apologies a veil had best be drawn. Mother
Carey pitied her heartily, but it was impossible not to make fun at
home over the black tokens on Allen's shirt-collar. His brothers and
sisters laughed excessively, and Janet twitted him with his Undine,
till he, contrary to his wont, grew so cross as to make his mother
recollect that he was still a suffering patient, and insist on his
lying quiet on the sofa, while she banished every one, and read
Tennyson to him. Poetry, read aloud by her, was Allen's greatest
delight, but not often enjoyed, as Bobus and Jock scouted it, and
Janet was getting too strong-minded and used to break in with
inopportune, criticisms.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218