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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"Havelok the Dane A Legend of Old Grimsby and Lincoln"

"I grow
weary of this crowd that seems to have naught to do but stare at a
stranger."
"What shall we ask, when he does come? and supposing that there is a
place for but one of us?" I said.
"Why, then, the one it fits best will take it, and the other must seek
some other chance. That is all."
"As you will, brother," I answered, "but I would rather that we should
be together."
"And I also. But after all, both will be in Lincoln, and we must take
what comes. It is but for a little while, and we shall not like to
burden that good old dame by being too hard to please. We want somewhat
to do until we can go home, not for a day longer, and I care not what it
is."
"That is right," I said; "and the sooner I see one of our folk coming
over this bridge with a full basket of fish, the better I shall like it.
But it may be a long day before that. Now, I have been thinking that it
were not well that you should say that you are the son of Grim."
I did not quite know how he would take this, for he was proud of my
father as I. But that very pride made it easy.
"Maybe not," he said thoughtfully, "for it seems unworthy of his sons
that we have to ask for service from any man. But I do not think that he
could blame us, as things are. Nevertheless, folk shall not talk."
"Men know me," said I, "but that cannot be helped.


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