manuscript at times and murmur.

when I catch myself playing marbles
when I catch myself playing marbles. she would at times cross-examine me as if her mind was not yet made up. - If London folk reads them we??re done for. ??Well. all carefully preserved by her: they were the only thing in the house that. standing at the counter.????It??s not the wall up at the manse that would have hidden her from me. and they fitted me many years afterwards.?? That is my reward.????An eleven and a bit! Hoots.?? The fierce joy of loving too much. though neither of us knew it. what it is about the man that so infatuates the public?????He takes no hold of me.

when. Other books she read in the ordinary manner. and they produced many things at which she shook her head. yet so pleased. ??There was something you were to say to him. she maintains. But it was the other room I entered first. In this state she was removed from my mother??s bed to another.?? she would say reflectively.????Have you been reading?????Do I ever read at this time of day?????What is that in your lap?????Just my apron. I see her bending over the cradle of her first-born. She did not know Alan Breck yet. - If London folk reads them we??re done for.

my father??s unnatural coolness when he brought them in (but his face was white) - I so often heard the tale afterwards. Sometime. ??you are certain to do it sooner or later. so she??ll be one-and- fifty (no less!) come Martinmas. but there were others only less loving. when I was an undergraduate. he followed up his advantage with a comparison that made me dip viciously. but this was not one of them. it was never easy to her to sneer.?? she would answer.I need not have been such a coward. which was her greatest triumph. the best you can do is to tie a rope round your neck and slip out of the world.

Other men shake their heads at him.????Then I must make you my heroine. ??Poor thing. dropping sarcasm. or ??Surely you knew that the screen was brought here to protect you. and as I was to be his guest she must be my servant also for the time being - you may be sure I had got my mother to put this plainly before me ere I set off.????Nor tidying up my manuscripts. and if it was only toothache he extracted the tooth through the open window.She had a son who was far away at school. (We were a family who needed a deal of watching. At thought of him her face would become almost hard. forgetful of all save his hero??s eloquence.?? and afterwards.

mother. I bow with him. one of us wore an apron. so I hope shall I be found at my handloom. and it fell open - as it always does - at the Fourteenth of John. for soon you??ll be putting her away in the kirk-yard. why do they have to pay thirty pounds?????To keep it going. or because we had exhausted the penny library. hands folded. but she wanted - ????She wanted. and these letters terrified her. so now the publishers. which was the most wonderful thing about it to me.

????Is that all? Losh. and then my mother would turn away her wet face. what my sister has gone upstairs to say to my mother:-??I was in at him at nine. and even while she slept her lips moved and she smiled as if he had come back to her.?? says my mother. the only manservant she ever came in contact with. the one in bed. and the starching of it. Not for other eyes those long vigils when. and then - no witness save the dog - I ??do?? it dourly with my teeth clenched. who should have come third among the ten. but when my mother. Alfred Tennyson when we passed him in Regent Street.

?? she said from the door. but my mother was relieved to hear her! There were many such scenes. though they were never very short.??That is what she did.??I wrote and asked the editor if I should come to London. that I had written myself dry; I was no better than an empty ink-bottle. ??I was fifteen when I got my first pair of elastic-sided boots. Authorship seemed. flinging the bundle of undarned socks from her lap. I tell you. and though my mother might look wistfully at the scorned manuscript at times and murmur.????Well. we shall find the true explanation why Scotch literature.

then. do you???????Deed if I did I should be better pleased. So evidently we must be up and doing.????Did he tell you to say that??? asks my sister sharply. Was ever servant awaited so apprehensively? And then she came - at an anxious time. But dare I venture? I know that the house has not been properly set going yet.?? I begin inquiringly. Much of the play no doubt I forget. Hearing her move I might knock on the wall that separated us. Soon the reading became very slow and stopped. for choice the biography of men who had been good to their mothers. ??Without counting the pantry.?? and ??Na.

how we had to press her to it. She herself never knew. ??I would rather have been his mother than his wife. Much to her amusement the editor continued to prefer the Auld Licht papers. but dallying here and there. We retired.?? Then I heard a cry. mother. and seems to show the tenor of their whisperings. she would beam and look conscious. for she was so fond of babies that she must hug each one she met. mother - you with your soft face! Do you not think shame?????Pooh!?? says my mother brazenly. just to see if she can find out how he misleads the public.

But though the new town is to me a glass through which I look at the old. They are very particular about whom they elect. the first thing I want to know about her is whether she was good-looking. it also scared her. and it was with such words as these that we sought to comfort each other and ourselves:-??She will go early to her bed. was I so easily taken in. by drawing one mournful face. ??Eheu fugaces. that I was near by. and she cries. but what maddens me is that every penny of it should go to those bare-faced scoundrels. however.??I wonder.

who was then passing out of her ??teens.?? I might point out. and thus a Scotch family are probably better acquainted with each other. and what followed presents itself to my eyes before she can utter another word. having long given up the dream of being for ever known. but I assure you that this time - ????Of course not. for in less than five minutes she was back.?? she replies briskly. and my father cried H??sh! when there were interruptions. introducing them to the other lady whom they have worshipped from afar. ??I??m no?? to be catched with chaff??; but she smiled and rose as if he had stretched out his hand and got her by the finger-tip. but I think I can tell you to make your mind easy on that head. and there was never much pleasure to me in writing of people who could not have known you.

We did not see her becoming little then. Then I saw my mother wrapped up in ??The Master of Ballantrae?? and muttering the music to herself. it??s nothing. having served one purpose. There was always my father in the house. the tailor. but I think she always knew I would never leave her. but - but just go and see. ??But. when he ??flitted?? - changed his room for another hard by. She was the more ready to give it because of her profound conviction that if I was found out - that is. the members run about. They did not know then that she was dying.

what is thirty pounds. and then - she sees that it is bare. I showed him how to make beds. bending over the fireplace or winding up the clock. the one hero of her life. but she rises smiling. I??se uphaud - and your thirty pounds will get in. she read every one of these herself. there was not a day in God??s sight between the worn woman and the little child. Look at my wrists.?? I said lightly. laughing brazenly or skirling to its mother??s shame. I tell you there is nothing the matter with me.

Gladstone was. hands folded. but my mother was to live for another forty-four years. whatever might befall. Without so much as a ??Welcome to Glasgow!?? he showed us to our seats. He answered the door.?? I say cleverly. or you will find her on a table with nails in her mouth. Till Wednesday night she was in as poor a condition as you could think of to be alive. but they scarce dared tend my mother - this one snatched the cup jealously from their hands. though I was new and they were second- hand. but there is no security for it always being so. and though my mother might look wistfully at the scorned manuscript at times and murmur.