Fine pickings for Boney
if he only knew."
Miss Marty's thoughts flew back at once to a corner cupboard in the
parlour, inlaid with tulips in Dutch marqueterie, and containing the
Major's priceless eggshell china. To be sure, if the French landed,
she--weak woman that she was--could not defend this treasure.
But might not the Major blame her for having abandoned it?
"I--I trust," she hazarded, "that our brave fellows have succeeded in
their enterprise. It seemed to me that I heard the sound of distant
firing just now."
"If they hadn't, miss, they'd ha' been back afore now. I had my own
doubts about 'em, for they're a hair-triggered lot, the Troy
Gallants. No fear of their goin' off; but 'tis a matter o' doubt in
what direction."
"Your master," said Miss Marty, severely, addressing Cai across
Scipio (who for some reason seldom or never spoke in Cai's company)--
"your master has the heart of a lion. He would die rather than
acknowledge defeat."
"A heart of a lion, miss, if you'll excuse my saying it, is an
uncomfortable thing in a man's stomach; an' more especially when 'tis
fed up on the wind o' vanity. I've a-read my Bible plumb down to the
forbidden books thereof, and there's a story in it called Bel and the
Dragon, which I mind keeping to the last, thinkin' 'twas the name of
a public-house. 'Tis a terrible warnin' against swollen vittles."
"You are a dreadful cynic, Cai.
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