"Now, then," said Mr. Blake, looking up from his mark-book with a broad grin on his own face - "now, then, there's nothing to laugh at. - Look here," he added, turning to the new boy, "how d'you spell it?" Instead of being at all annoyed or disconcerted at the mirth of his class-mates, the youngster seemed rather to enjoy the joke, and immediately rattled out a semi-humorous reply to the master's question, - "D I G, dig; G O R Y, gory - Diggory: T R E, tre; VAN, van; O C K, ock - Trevanock." Then turning round, he smiled complacently at the occupants of the desks behind, as much as to say:...

Purchase one of 1st World Library's Classic Books and help support our free internet library of downloadable eBooks. Visit us online at www.1stWorldLibrary.ORG - - "Now, then," said Mr. Blake, looking up from his mark-book with a broad grin on his own face - "now, then, there's nothing to laugh at. - Look here," he added, turning to the new boy, "how d'you spell it?" Instead of being at all annoyed or disconcerted at the mirth of his class-mates, the youngster seemed rather to enjoy the joke, and immediately rattled out a semi-humorous reply to the master's question, - "D I G, dig; G O R Y,...

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. GUNPOWDER TREASON AND PLOT And Other Stories for Boys BY HAROLD AVERY, FRED WHISHAW, AND R. B. TOWNSHEND WITH FOURTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. Owing to the peculiar character of its passengers, the coach was found to be carrying practically nothing in the way of luggage, except my own trunk and the one large hamper already mentioned, which had been pushed into the boot for conveyance to Castlefield, probably to relieve the mail, which was sure to be heavily...

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. The battle was nearly over. Gallant tin soldiers of the line lay where they had fallen; nearly the whole of a shilling box of light cavalry had paid the penalty of rashly exposing themselves in a compact body to the enemy's fire; while a rickety little field-gun, with bright red wheels, lay overturned on two infantry...

"What's your name?" "Diggory Trevanock." The whole class exploded. "Now, then," said Mr. Blake, looking up from his mark-book with a broad grin on his own face-"now, then, there's nothing to laugh at.-Look here," he added, turning to the new boy, "how d'you spell it?" Instead of being at all annoyed or disconcerted at the mirth of his class-mates, the youngster seemed rather to enjoy the joke, and immediately rattled out a semi-humorous reply to the master's question, -

The battle was nearly over. Gallant tin soldiers of the line lay where they had fallen; nearly the whole of a shilling box of light cavalry had paid the penalty of rashly exposing themselves in a compact body to the enemy's fire; while a rickety little field-gun, with bright red wheels, lay overturned on two infantry men, who, even in death, held their muskets firmly to their shoulders, like the grim old "die-hards" that they were.

Elsie pushed away the bed-clothes which were covering her ear, and listened; then she sat up in bed, and listened again. There was no doubt that it was an actual sound, and not mere imagination. How long it had been going on, or when it first began to mingle in a confused manner with her dreams, she could not say; but now she heard it plainly enough, and recognized what it was-the peculiar, grating hiss of a grindstone, punctuated every now and then with a subdued little squeak made by the treadle.

"They've seen us Run for it " My chosen friend, Miles Coverthorne, was the speaker. He sprang to his feet as he uttered the words, and darted like a rabbit into the bushes, I myself following hard at his heels. The seasons seem to have come earlier in those days, and though May was not out, the woods and countryside appeared clothed with all the richness of leafy June.