"My father! ... Oh! my fa-ther!"
It was a wild little cry to which the Man
Killer rang now, as the head of Pemrose
Lorry went down upon her knees.

"Yes, I'm glad his way is clear--though,
I suppose, only a man 'whose head
grew under his arm' would have managed
the thing as I have done." The sufferer
winked through the veil of pain. " Now!
my son is different. He's a dare-devil
too--but he knows where to stop. You
couldn't have bribed him to steal that record
-though somebody played a trick on him
the other night--robbed him of his oars
and a dance--just when he had'taken the
bit between his teeth', too; said he was
tired of this camouflage business, and he was
going--going whether I liked it, or not!"

"Ah-h!" That was the moment when
Pem's shoulders trembled like the needles
upon the little green cedar sapling that
grew by the rill: all because the Wise
Woman in her was shaking the Elf, bidding
her go to sleep for ever--which
[[277]]

p276 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p277w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p278

v?