I grieve to say that the whole table, her reverend papa included, seemed really charmed with this audacious speech.
“Well,” said Harrow’s captain, feeling that the day was going against him, and therefore losing his head a little, and mixing his metaphors horribly, “you can curl back into your shell. Your airs won’t wash with me. And don’t put side on with a pitchfork either, for when all’s said, you are barely an hour older than I am.”
“‘Hooray! Isn’t A. J. just a darling?’”
Willow, the King.] [Page [203].
“Yes, dear Tommy,” said his sister; “but then, you see, I’ve not been to Harrow.”
The Fates, however, were now kind enough to play into the hands of T. S. M. It is almost certain else that his mutilated corpse had been carried from this fatal field. A maid-servant issued from the house with a pink slip in her hand. She delivered it into the care of the Harrow captain.
“The boy’s waiting, sir,” said she.
Tom tore off the wrapper. Thereon he was seen to grow noticeably pale, while he allowed the telegram to flutter from his fingers.
“I say!” he gasped.