Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936 / 2008-06-30 00:00:00
But we're going to have the
time of our lives."
"We'll run up to London to-morrow, and see if we can hurry those
English law solicitors. I want to get to work."
They went. They suffered many things ere they returned across the
fields in a fly one Saturday night, nursing a two by
two-and-a-half box of deeds and maps--lawful owners of Friars
Pardon and the five decayed farms therewith.
"I do most sincerely 'ope and trust you'll be 'appy, Madam," Mrs.
Cloke gasped, when she was told the news by the kitchen fire.
"Goodness! It isn't a marriage!" Sophie exclaimed, a little awed;
for to them the joke, which to an American means work, was only
just beginning.
"If it's took in a proper spirit"--Mrs. Cloke's eye turned toward
her oven.
"Send and have that mended to-morrow," Sophie whispered.
"We couldn't 'elp noticing," said Cloke slowly, "from the times
you walked there, that you an' your lady was drawn to it,
but--but I don't know as we ever precisely thought--" His wife's
glance checked him.
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