Deep Waters, the Entire Collection eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 129 pages of information about Deep Waters, the Entire Collection.

Them silly fools stood there choking and sobbing and patting each other on the back as though they’d never leave off, and all of a sudden I ’ad a ’orrible suspicion that I ’ad been done.

“Did you see the sovereigns in the box?” I ses, turning to the skipper.

“No,” he ses, shaking his ’ead.

“’Ow do you know they was there, then?” ses I.

“Because you took charge of ’em,” said the skipper; “and I know wot a clever, sharp chap you are.  It stands to reason that you wouldn’t be responsible for a box like that unless you saw inside of it.  Why, a child o’ five wouldn’t!”

I stood there looking at ’im, but he couldn’t meet my eye.  None of ’em could; and arter waiting there for a minute or two to give ’em a chance, I turned my back on ’em and went off to my dooty.

MADE TO MEASURE

Mr. Mott brought his niece home from the station with considerable pride.  Although he had received a photograph to assist identification, he had been very dubious about accosting the pretty, well-dressed girl who had stepped from the train and gazed around with dove-like eyes in search of him.  Now he was comfortably conscious of the admiring gaze of his younger fellow-townsmen.

“You’ll find it a bit dull after London, I expect,” he remarked, as he inserted his key in the door of a small house in a quiet street.

“I’m tired of London,” said Miss Garland.  “I think this is a beautiful little old town—­so peaceful.”

Mr. Mott looked gratified.

“I hope you’ll stay a long time,” he said, as he led the way into the small front room.  “I’m a lonely old man.”

His niece sank into an easy chair, and looked about her.

“Thank you,” she said, slowly.  “I hope I shall.  I feel better already.  There is so much to upset one in London.”

“Noise?” queried Mr. Mott.

“And other things,” said Miss Garland, with a slight shudder.

Mr. Mott sighed in sympathy with the unknown, and, judging by his niece’s expression, the unknowable.  He rearranged the teacups, and, going to the kitchen, returned in a few minutes with a pot of tea.

“Mrs. Pett leaves at three,” he said, in explanation, “to look after her children, but she comes back again at eight to look after my supper.  And how is your mother?”

Miss Garland told him.

“Last letter I had from her,” said Mr. Mott, stealing a glance at the girl’s ring-finger, “I understood you were engaged.”

His niece drew herself up.

“Certainly not,” she said, with considerable vigour.  “I have seen too much of married life.  I prefer my freedom.  Besides, I don’t like men.”

Mr. Mott said modestly that he didn’t wonder at it, and, finding the subject uncongenial, turned the conversation on to worthier subjects.  Miss Garland’s taste, it seemed, lay in the direction of hospital nursing, or some other occupation beneficial to mankind at large.  Simple and demure, she filled the simpler Mr. Mott with a strong sense of the shortcomings of his unworthy sex.

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Deep Waters, the Entire Collection from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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