Читать книгу Mary Boyle, Her Book онлайн

49 страница из 63

The man smiled. “Well, ma’am,” he said, “there was no more for me to do; there were plenty of people too ready to help you, and I should only have been in the way.” He then finished his speech with no mean compliment to the beautiful girl who stood before him (the little child of that eventful day). “And what a pity it would have been, to be sure, if she had not lived!”—which conversation and conduct go to prove, in my opinion, that the butcher was not only a hero, but a gentleman.

My mother told the story right and left, and secured her friend, not only the custom, but visits from many of the inmates of the palace, and she related the incident so graphically to the Duke and Duchess of Clarence, that the custom of Bushey House, where H.R.H. resided as Ranger of the Park, was assured to him. So that in fact this early act of heroism helped to make the fortune of John Ives and of his son after him.

I naturally make frequent allusions to friends of all kinds and classes, and am therefore tempted to insert an anecdote about a feathered acquaintance of mine, which will not try the reader’s patience long.