Then there was the young American stepping forward through a narrow
sunbeam into the brown shade to meet him, with such a shamefaced, boyish
air of conscious delinquency. Conscious, indeed, that he was the author
of a certain commotion, but very far, assuredly, from being conscious
that he, Gifford Crayshaw, by means of this schoolboy prank, was taking
the decisive step towards a change in the destiny of every soul then
bearing a part in it.
John Mortimer reached the town. He had rallied the boy, and made him see
his folly. "A fine young fellow," he reflected, "and full of fun. I
don't care how often he comes here," and so in thought he dismissed
Crayshaw and his boyish escapade, to attend to more important matters.
Emily, as she went towards home, was soon overtaken by the twins,
Johnnie, and Crayshaw. Opposition being now withdrawn, the latter young
gentleman had discovered that he ought to go with his brother, and was
moderately good-tempered about it. Johnnie Mortimer, on the other hand,
was gloriously sulky, and declined to take any notice of his
fellow-creatures, even when they spoke to him.
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