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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

But, dear lady, to what end? and how is the
society of these excellent gentlemen supposed to help me?'
'My dear sir,' said she, 'you do not at all understand your own
predicament, and must just leave your matters in the hands of those
who do. I dare say you have never even heard tell of the drove-
roads or the drovers; and I am certainly not going to sit up all
night to explain it to you. Suffice it, that it is me who is
arranging this affair--the more shame to me!--and that is the way
ye have to go. Ronald,' she continued, 'away up-by to the
shepherds; rowst them out of their beds, and make it perfectly
distinct that Sim is not to leave till he has seen me.'
Ronald was nothing loath to escape from his aunt's neighbourhood,
and left the room and the cottage with a silent expedition that was
more like flight than mere obedience. Meanwhile the old lady
turned to her niece.
'And I would like to know what we are to do with him the night!'
she cried.
'Ronald and I meant to put him in the hen-house,' said the
encrimsoned Flora.
'And I can tell you he is to go to no such a place,' replied the
aunt. 'Hen-house, indeed! If a guest he is to be, he shall sleep
in no mortal hen-house. Your room is the most fit, I think, if he
will consent to occupy it on so great a suddenty.


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