Explorers of the Dawn

ree were in Mrs. Handsomebody's pa

than we shut our books with a snap, ran on tiptoe to the top of the stairs, and, after a moment's breat

al regularity we cast off the yoke of her restraint, slid down t

ied to the keyhole, could just faintly discern the portrait in crayon of the late Mr. Handsomebody, p

ture were furbished up for the morrow. Moreover Mary Ellen liked our company. She had a spooky feeling about the parlour. Mr. Handsomebody ga

carpet, her bare red arms moving like listless antenn?. She could, when she willed, work vigorously and well, but no

Sure, I feel this mornin' like as if I'd a stone settin' on my stomach, an' me head feels as light as thistledow

passes with her br

n be lavin' this

ering presence of Mary Ellen rose bla

fectly well that father's coming back from South America soon to make a home for us, and that

ry Ellen's "followers" were a bone of c

ollowers, is it? Sure, they're the bane o' me life! Now git out av the way o' the dust

no sooner had we looked out than we wh

ion of the Bishop, grey stone, like the Cathedral; on the east was a dingy white brick house, ex

victoria from the livery stables. But beyond an occasional flutter of excitement when their horses stopped at our very gate, there was little in this prim couple to in

eyes discovered an object of such compelling interest in the Pegg's fron

hued, flowered dressing-gown, that hung open at the neck, disclosing his long br

und his chin and ears. His nose was large and sun-burned; and every now and again

ld gentleman

!" giggled The Seraph. "Coat

he live with the Peggs? Did she think he was a foreigner? M

me from somewheres in th' Indies. Their cook was tellin' me of the time they have wid him. He's a bit light-h

eived that he was watched, and saluti

orning,

Mrs. Mortimer Pegg, herself, emerge from her house with a very red face, and resolutely grasp her father-in-law's

iation experienced by the helpless male when over-bearing

g seemed to be establi

oke in on my reverie. She

missus gets back! There's a duck. I'll give

piano. It was Mary Ellen's delight on a Saturday morning to pour forth her pent up feeling

my nose against the glass case that held the stuffed birds and wondered if any of

te-tum, str

ltz with the st

band-pla

tones thrilled

a locomotive, bursting with health and spirits, s

ltz with th' st

-band-p

at the singing of Mary Ellen must have dulled his sensibilities, for, instead of keeping a bright lookout up the street for the dreaded f

y drew nearer and nearer. She entered the gate

ir last triumphant shout, when Mrs. Han

(David is Angel's proper name) get up instantly from

so trem

olroom, mind-and don't let me hear another sound from you today! You shall get no di

en the door closed behind us with a decisive bang, and poor Mary Ellen wa