The Loom of Destiny
for three years, sir. As for the ultimate outcome of those campaigns, sir, I have only to refer you to the actual text of the treaty of Ghent and Professor Goldwin Smith's—but, dear me, you are only a child! I quite forgot for the moment—quite forgot! So off to bed with you now!"
Georgie went scampering up the stairs with a sudden new lightness in his heart. The Empire had been upheld. The stain had been washed off the escutcheon.
He waited impatiently until everything had grown quiet and then gave the accustomed signal,—six knocks on the wall with his shoe,—and leaned out the window to tell Mary Edith.
"It was a lie," whispered Georgie, "and Uncle Charley says that the Revolution was won in England, by what he called the middle classes in between, you know."
"There!" said Mary Edith, with conviction. "I always knew that Freckles was telling stories. Oh, I say, Georgie, are n't you glad?"
Georgie made the sound that usually ac-
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