Donald and Harold were on the eve of laughing outright, but Marie-Celeste, detecting a suspicious blinking in the long curling lashes of the eyelids, kept them still by an imperative gesture.
“Yes, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, imitating exactly old Brown's tone and accent when showing visitors through the chapel, “this is a monument erected to the memory of a knight who was killed in battle, together with his noble palfrey. It represents him as he was found, one arm around the neck of his faithful charger” (at this the knight's lips also betrayed a certain uncontrollable twitching). “The smile upon his face is considered one of the chief charms of the statue; but the way that we know that he is a knight—in fact, the only way—is by this blue garter around his knee.” At this the little limb was suddenly drawn up, that the tell-tale garter might be hid from view; and then, able to stand it no longer, Albert looked up entreatingly to the children above him, and blushingly explained, “Dorothy made it for me, just for a bit of fun, you know;” and then sure to a certainty that he never, never would hear the end of that blue garter, buried his blushes in Timothy's long silky coat, and rued the hour when Dorothy had so merrily abetted his desire for this particular “bit of fun.”
CHAPTER XI.—WHAT CAME OF A LETTER.
I am convinced this is not the best sort of life for Donald. It would be vastly better for him to have something to do.”
“But surely he is not yet in a condition to go to sea again, and it is next to impossible to find any temporary position for him in Windsor.”