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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Richard Carvel, Volume 2, by Winston Churchill This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: Richard Carvel, Volume 2 Author: Winston Churchill Release Date: October 18, 2004 [EBook #5366] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD CARVEL, VOLUME 2 *** Produced by David Widger RICHARD CARVEL By Winston Churchill Volume 2. VIII. Over the Wall IX. Under False Colours X. The Red in the Carvel Blood XI. A Festival and a Parting XII. News from a Far Country CHAPTER VIII OVER THE WALL Dorothy treated me ill enough that spring. Since the minx had tasted power at Carvel Hall, there was no accounting for her. On returning to town Dr. Courtenay had begged her mother to allow her at the assemblies, a request which Mrs. Manners most sensibly refused. Mr. Marmaduke had given his consent, I believe, for he was more impatient than Dolly for the days when she would become the toast of the province. But the doctor contrived to see her in spite of difficulties, and Will Fotheringay was forever at her house, and half a dozen other lads. And many gentlemen of fashion like the doctor called ostensibly to visit Mrs. Manners, but in reality to see Miss Dorothy. And my lady knew it. She would be lingering in the drawing-room in her best bib and tucker, or strolling in the garden as Dr. Courtenay passed, and I got but scant attention indeed. I was but an awkward lad, and an old playmate, with no novelty about me. "Why, Richard," she would say to me as I rode or walked beside her, or sat at dinner in Prince George Street, "I know every twist and turn of your nature. There is nothing you could do to surprise me. And so, sir, you are very tiresome." "You once found me useful enough to fetch and carry, and amusing when I walked the Oriole's bowsprit," I replied ruefully. "Why don't you make me jealous?" says she, stamping her foot. "A score of pretty girls are languishing for a glimpse of you,--Jennie and Bess Fotheringay, and Betty Tayloe, and Heaven knows how many others. They are actually accusing me of keeping you trailing. 'La, girls!' said I, 'if you will but rid me of him
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