They are going. Good-night,
'Lily.' Run away now. I want a word with Mr. Dunn."
"Oh, heartless cruelty!" exclaimed "Lily," in an agonised voice. "But
what can you expect from such associations?" And he hastened away to
have a last word with Mrs. Craig-Urquhart, who was swimming languidly
by.
Miss Brodie turned eagerly to Dunn. "I'd like to help you awfully," she
said; "indeed I must try. I have very little hope. My uncle is so strong
when he is once set, and he is so funny about that Bank. But a boy is
worth more than a Bank, if he IS a fool; besides, there is his sister.
Good-night. Thanks for letting me help. I have little hope, but
to-morrow I shall see Sir Archibald, and--and his pigs."
It was still in the early forenoon of the following day when Miss
Brodie greeted her uncle as he was about to start upon his round of the
pastures and pens where the Wiltshires of various ages and sizes and
sexes were kept. With the utmost enthusiasm Miss Brodie entered into his
admiration of them all, from the lordly prize tusker to the great mother
lying broadside on in grunting and supreme content, every grunt eloquent
of happiness and maternal love and pride, to allow her week-old brood to
prod and punch her luxuriant dugs for their breakfast.
By the time they had made their rounds Sir Archibald had arrived at his
most comfortable and complacent mood.
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