" "Forgive you!" echoed his mother, with a look radiant with delight. It’s not you—not a bit. “Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. It could not be she who had done this. good at that. Spare me yet a little while, Father! not for my own sake, but for the sake of this poor babe. The risk I run is nothing to yours. “Oh my God! You sounded like my Grandma just now! How did you do that?” He asked, shocked. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. In the morning and at night he is dressed as he would dress in the big hotels.
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