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That Stick

That Stick

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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That Stick, by Charlotte M. Yonge

This eBook was prepared by Les Bowler.

THAT STICK

by
CHARLOTTE M. YONGE
author ofthe heir of redclyffe’, ‘unknown to history’, etc.

She was a little brown mouse of a woman, with soft dark eyes, smooth hair, and a clear olive complexion

London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
and new york

1892

All rights reserved

Chap.

Page

1

Honours

1

2

Honours Reflected

9

3

What is Honour?

20

4

Honours Waning

25

5

The Peer

29

6

The Weight of Honours

36

7

Mortons and Manners

41

8

Second Thoughts

49

9

The Heir-Presumptuous

53

10

Coming Honours

64

11

Possession

70

12

The Burthen of Honours

77

13

The Dower House

81

14

Westhaven Versions of Honours

88

15

The Pied Rook

99

16

What is Rest?

107

17

On The Surface

114

18

Desdichado

120

19

The Dolomites

129

20

Ratzes

137

21

The Heir-Apparent

143

22

Out of Joint

147

23

Velvet

155

24

The Revenge of Sordid Spirits

163

25

The Love

169

26

Ida’s Warning

175

27

The Young Pretender

180

28

Two Bundles of Hay

187

29

Jones or Rattler

193

30

SCARLET FEVER

202

31

Mite

208

32

A Shock

216

33

Darkness

223

34

The Phantom of the Station

230

35

The Quest

239

36

Ida’s Confession

247

37

Hope

252

38

The Clue

262

39

The Honourable Pauper

270

40

Joy Well-nigh Incredible

277

41

The Canadian Northmoor

284

42

Humble Pie

290

43

The Staff

295

CHAPTER I
HONOURS

‘Oh, there’s that stick.  What can he want?’ sighed one of a pair of dignified elderly ladies, in black silk, to the other, as in a quiet country-town street they saw themselves about to be accosted by a man of about forty, with the air of a managing clerk, who came up breathlessly, with a flush on his usually pale cheeks.

‘Miss Lang; I beg pardon!  May I be allowed a few words with Miss Marshall?  I know it is unusual, but I have something unusual to tell her.’

‘Nothing distressing, I hope, Mr. Morton,’ said one of the ladies, startled.

‘Oh no, quite the reverse,’ he said, with a nervous laugh; ‘in fact, I have unexpectedly come into a property!’

‘Indeed!’ with great astonishment, ‘I congratulate you,’ as the colour mounted in his face, pleasant, honest, but with the subdued expression left by long years of patience in a subordinate position.

‘May I ask—’ began the other sister.

‘I hardly understand it yet,’ was the answer; ‘but I must go to town by the 5.10 train, and I should like her to hear it from myself.’

‘Oh, certainly; it does you honour, Mr. Morton.’

They were entering the sweep of one of those large substantial houses on the outskirts of country towns that have a tendency to become boarding-schools, and such had that of the Misses Lang been long before the days of the High School.

‘Fortunately it is recreation-time,’ said Miss Lang, as she conducted Mr. Morton to the drawing-room, hung round with coloured drawings, in good taste, if stiff, and chiefly devoted to interviews with

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