The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX, No. 989, December 10, 1898 — John Shaqi
The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX, No. 989, December 10, 1898Various
General
The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX, No. 989, December 10, 1898
Various
Children's literature -- Periodicals
“And the fattest! Dearie me, wouldn’t you be a tub! I don’t know that I
have any special ambition. I mean to get my degree if I can, and then
persuade the governor to send me a tour round the world. I like moving
about, and change and excitement, and travelling is good fun if you
avoid the fag, and provide yourself with introductions to the right
people. I know a fellow who went off for a year and had no end of a
time; people put him up at their houses, and got up balls and dinners
for his benefit, and he never had to rough it a bit. I could put in a
year or two in that way uncommonly well.”
Rob had been wriggling on his chair and scowling in his wild-bear
fashion all the while Oswald was speaking, and at the conclusion he
relieved his feelings by kicking out recklessly beneath the table, with
the result that Peggy sat up suddenly with a “My foot, my friend! Curb
your enthusiasm!” which made him laugh, despite his annoyance.
“But it’s such bosh!” he cried scornfully. “It makes me sick to hear
a fellow talk such nonsense. Balls and dinners--faugh! If that’s your
idea of happiness, why not settle down in London and be done with it!
That’s the place for you! I’d give my ears to go round the world, but
I wouldn’t thank you to go with a dress suit and a valet; I’d want
to rough it, to get right out of the track of civilisation and taste
a new life; to live with the Bedouin in their tents as some of those
artist fellows have done, or make friends with a tribe of savages.
Magnificent! I’d keep a note-book with an account of all I did, and
all the strange plants and flowers and insects I came across, and write
a book when I came home. I’d a lot rather rough it in Africa that
lounge about Piccadilly in a frock coat and tall hat.” Robert sighed
at the hard prospect which lay before him as the son of a noble house,
then looked across the table with a smile: “And what says the fair
Mariquita? What _rôle_ in life is she going to patronise when she comes
to years of discretion?”
Peggy nibbled the end of her pen and stared into space.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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