Wilfrid Cumbermede by George MacDonald
page 79 of 638 (12%)
page 79 of 638 (12%)
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'Mrs Wilson! Mrs Wilson! I want you a moment.'
'Yes, Sir Giles,' answered a tall, stiff-looking elderly woman who presently appeared descending, with upright spine, a corkscrew staircase of stone. 'Here is a young gentleman, Mrs Wilson, who seems to have lost his way. He is one of Mr Elder's pupils at Aldwick. Will you get him something to eat and drink, and then send him home?' 'I will, Sir Giles.' 'Good-bye, my man,' said Sir Giles, again shaking hands with me. Then turning anew to the housekeeper, for such I found she was, he added: 'Couldn't you find a bag for him, and fill it with some of those brown pippins? They're good eating, ain't they?' 'With pleasure, Sir Giles.' Thereupon Sir Giles withdrew, closing the door behind him, and leaving me with the sense of life from the dead. 'What's your name, young gentleman?' asked Mrs Wilson, with, I thought, some degree of sternness. 'Wilfrid Cumbermede,' I answered. She stared at me a little, with a stare which would have been a start in most women. I was by this time calm enough to take a quiet look at |
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