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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"Peregrine's Progress"


"And now--beast--fetch the hurdle yonder!" said he.
So the men brought the hurdle and my uncle, stripping off his fine
surtout, made therewith a pillow for the beautiful, piteous head.
"And now, where shall we take her?" he demanded.
"There's an ale-'us down yonder, me lord, nice an' 'andy," answered
the little man. "Us gen'ally takes 'em theer."
"Ah, do you mean you find many such?"
"A tidy few, me lord, but not s' many as us could wish, d'ye see--"
"Pah! Let us take her there. And be gentle with her."
"Gentle!" growled the bull-necked man. "'Er's dead, ain't
'er--gentle!"
So we moved off in mournful procession until we came to a small
waterside tavern, whose inmates my uncle peremptorily awakened, and
soon had forth a gruff, sleepy fellow to show the way and unlock a
tumble-down outhouse, into which they bore their silent burden,
followed by my uncle, bareheaded.
As for me, I walked to and fro in the sunshine, feeling myself cold
and shivering. At last I heard the doors close and turning, beheld my
uncle's tall, immaculate figure striding towards me.
"A sad sight, Perry, a dismal, woeful sight--and on such a glorious
morning. Come, let us go." So saying, he put on his hat, sternly
refusing the offer of my outer coat, and taking my arm, we began to
retrace our steps. Suddenly he checked, and feeling in his pocket,
brought forth that crumpled wisp of paper and, smoothing it out,
glanced at it and I saw his eyes grow suddenly fierce.


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