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Yonge, Charlotte Mary, 1823-1901

"My Young Alcides"


"I will go and see about her," said Harold. So he shouldered his
bag, walked into Mycening, and started in the tender, the only place
where he could endure railway travelling. Four days later came this
note:

"Thursday.
"My Dear Lucy,--Send the carriage to meet Mrs. Alison at 4.40 on
Saturday. Your affectionate
"H. A."

I handed the note to Eustace in amazement, but I perceived that he,
like his cousin, thought it quite simple that the home of the head of
the family should be a refuge for all its waifs and strays, and as I
was one myself, I felt rebuked.
I went to Mycening in the carriage, and beheld Harold emerge from a
first-class, extracting therefrom one basket after another, two bird-
cages, a bundle, an umbrella, a parcel, a cloak, and, finally, a
little panting apple-cheeked old lady. "Here's Lucy! that's right."
And as both his hands were full, he honoured me with a hasty kiss on
the forehead. "She'll take care of you, while I get the rest of it."
"But, oh!--my dear man--my pussy--and--and your wadded cloak--and,
oh--my sable muff--your poor papa's present, I would not lose it for
a thousand pounds!"
I found the muff, which could not easily be overlooked, for it was as
big as a portmanteau, and stuffed full of sundries.


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