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Some
Persons Unknow
Kenyon had been
more unmanageable than usual. Unsettled and
excitable from the moment he awoke and
remembered who was coming in the evening, he had
remained in an unsafe state all day. That
evening found him with unbroken bones was a
miracle to Ethel his sister, and to his great
friend John, the under-gardener. Poor Ethel was
in charge; and sole charge of Kenyon, who was
eleven, was no light matter for a girl with her
hair still down. Her brother was a handful at
most times; to-day he would have filled some
pairs of stronger hands than Ethel's. They had
begun the morning together, with snob-cricket,
as the small boy called it; but Kenyon had been
rather rude over it, and Ethel had retired. She
soon regretted this step; it had made him
reckless; he had spent the most dangerous day.
Kenyon delighted in danger. He had a mania for
walking round the entire premises on the garden
wall, which was high enough to kill him if he
fell, and for clambering over the greenhouses,
which offered a still more fascinating risk. Not
only had he done both this morning, he had gone
so far as to straddle a gable of the house
itself, shrieking good-tempered insults at Ethel,
who appealed to him with tears and entreaties
from the lawn below. Ethel had been quite
disabled from sitting at meat with him; and in
the afternoon he had bothered the gardeners, in
the potting-shed, to such an extent that his
friend John had subsequently refused to bowl to
him. In John's words Master Kenyon had been a
public nuisance all day—though a lovable one—at
his very worst he was that. He had lovable
looks, for one thing. It was not the only thing...
 A
Bride from the Bush
There was consternation in the domestic
camp of Mr Justice Bligh on the banks of the
Thames. It was a Sunday morning in early summer.
Three-fourths of the family sat in ominous
silence before the mockery of a well-spread
breakfast-table: Sir James and Lady Bligh and
their second son, Granville. The eldest son—the
missing complement of this family of four—was
abroad. For many months back, and, in fact, down
to this very minute, it had been pretty
confidently believed that the young man was
somewhere in the wilds of Australia; no one had
quite known where, for the young man, like most
vagabond young men, was a terribly meagre
corespondent; nor had it ever been clear why any
one with leisure and money, and of no very
romantic turn, should have left the beaten track
of globe-trotters, penetrated to the wilderness,
and stayed there—as Alfred Bligh had done. Now,
however, all was plain. A letter from Brindisi,
just received, explained everything; Alfred’s
movements, so long obscure, were at last
revealed, and in a lurid light—that, as it were,
of the bombshell that had fallen and burst upon
the Judge’s breakfast-table. For Alfred was on
his way to England with an Australian wife; and
this letter from Brindisi, was the first that
his people had heard of it, or of her...

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