Colonel Brownlow was equally amazed at the boy's attainment of a
manly and earnest thought and purpose, so utterly unlike anything he
had hitherto seen in the stolid Rob, or the easy-going Allen, or even
in Bobus, who—-whatever there might be in him—-never thought it worth
while to show it to his uncle.
However, discussion was cut short by a little flying figure which
came rushing across the garden, and Babie with streaming hair clung
to her cousin, gasping—-
"Oh! Johnny, Johnny, tell me about Armie and Jock."
"They are ever so much better, Babie," said Johnny, lifting the slim
little thing up in his arms, as he had lifted his own five-year-old
brother; "I've got a thick parcel of acrostics for you, Armie makes
them in bed, and Lord Fordham writes them out."
"Will you come to the rosary, Uncle Robert?" said Babie, recovering
her manners, as Johnny set her down. "It is the coolest place, and
they are sitting there."
"Why, Babie, what a sprite you look," said Johnny. "You look as if
you were just off the sick-list too!"
"I'm all right," said Babie, shaking her hair at him, and bounding on
before with the tidings of their coming, while her uncle observed in
a low voice—-
"Poor little thing! I believe she has been a good deal knocked up
between the heat and the anxiety; there was no making her eat or
sleep.
Pages:
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439