She added peculiarly at
the last "I see trouble ahead, but you are not to be downcast--the
skies will brighten."
It was at this point that Cousin Egbert found me, and after he had
warned the young woman that I was "some mixer" we departed. Not until
we had reached the Floud home did he discover that he had quite
forgotten to hand the press-chap Mrs. Effie's manuscript.
"Dog on the luck!" said he in his quaint tone of exasperation, "here
I've went and forgot to give Mrs. Effie's piece to the editor." He
sighed ruefully. "Well, to-morrow's another day."
And so the die was cast. To-morrow was indeed another day!
Yet I fell asleep on a memory of the evening that brought me a sort of
shamed pleasure--that I had falsely borne the stick and gloves of
Cousin Egbert. I knew they had given me rather an air.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I have never been able to recall the precise moment the next morning
when I began to feel a strange disquietude but the opening hours of the
day were marked by a series of occurrences slight in themselves yet so
cumulatively ominous that they seemed to lower above me like a cloud
of menace.
Looking from my window, shortly after the rising hour, I observed a
paper boy pass through the street, whistling a popular melody as he
ran up to toss folded journals into doorways.
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