With considerably less confidence
he repeated:
"The Rose, uncle."
"Hem!" said Mrs. Major on a yet shorter jerk; from Mary a double sniff
yet more violent.
Mr. Marrapit raised a white hand.
"Hark!" said Mr. Marrapit.
Alarmed, his nerves unstrung, with straining ears George listened. The
tense atmosphere made him ajump for outward sounds.
"Hark!" boomed Mr. Marrapit; lowered the warning hand; at George
directed a long finger. "Are you not afraid that you will hear upon
the threshold the footsteps of the young men who will come in, wind
you up, and carry you out?"
"What on earth--?" George asked.
Mr. Marrapit poked the extended finger towards him. "Ananias!" he
boomed. He poked at my quivering Mary. "Sapphira!"
"Hem!" said Mrs. Major. "Hem!"
George recovered. "Is this a joke?" he asked. "I tell you--look for
yourself--I have found the Rose."
Mr. Marrapit stooped to Mrs. Major's lap, hidden by the table. With a
most queenly creature in his arms he stood upright. "Here is the
Rose," said he.
Instantly George forgot all that had immediately passed. Instantly he
remembered that a bogus Rose was what he fully expected to see.
Instantly fear fled. Instantly assurance returned.
In a full and confident note, "Uncle," he said, "you have been
deceived!"
His words let loose a torrent upon him.
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