It was rather the name
of his expression than a description of it.
"Suppose," he said, "that Bennietod and I sit rocking here in this
bay--if it is a bay--while you two rest your chins on the top of
that ledge of rock up there, and look over. And about to-morrow or
day after we two will venture up behind you, or you could send one
of the men back--"
"My thunder," said Bennietod wistfully, "ain't I goin' to get to
climb in de pantry window at de palace--nor fire out of a
loophole--"
"Bennietod an' I couldn't talk to a prince anyway," said Little
Cawthorne; "we'd get our language twisted something dizzy, and
probably tell him 'yes, ma'am.'"
St. George's eyes softened as he looked at the little man. He knew
well enough what it cost him to make the suggestion, which the good
sense of them all must approve. Not only did Little Cawthorne always
sacrifice himself, which is merely good breeding, but he made
opportunities to do so, which is both well-bred and virtuous. When
Rollo came up with the oil-skins they told him what had been
decided, and Rollo, the faithful, the expressionless, dropped his
eyelids, but he could not banish from his voice the wistfulness that
he might have been one to stay behind.
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