"pigpi10" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yonge Charlotte M)

waist. She was clattering backwards and forwards, removing the
dinner things, and talking to the children as she did so in a sharp
shrill tone: "Such a racket as you make, to be sure, and how you can
have the heart to do so I can't guess, not I, considering what may be
doing this very moment."

"Oh, but Walter says they will all come back again, brother Edmund,
and Diggory, and all," said little Eleanor, "and then we shall be
merry."

"Yes," said Lucy, who, though two years older, wore the same prim
round cap and long frock as her little sister, "then we shall have
Edmund here again. You can't remember him at all, Eleanor and
Charlie, for we have not seen him these six years!"

"No," said Deborah, the maid. "Ah! these be weary wars, what won't
let a gentleman live at home in peace, nor his poor servants, who
have no call to them."

"For shame, Deb!" cried Lucy; "are not you the King's own subject?"

But Deborah maundered on, "It is all very well for gentlefolks, but
now it had all got quiet again, 'tis mortal hard it should be stirred
up afresh, and a poor soul marched off, he don't know where, to fight
with he don't know who, for he don't know what."

"He ought to know what!" exclaimed Lucy, growing very angry. "I tell
you, Deb, I only wish I was a man! I would take the great two-
handled sword, and fight in the very front rank for our Church and
our King! You would soon see what a brave cavalier's daughter--son I
mean," said Lucy, getting into a puzzle, "could do."

The more eager Lucy grew, the more unhappy Deborah was, and putting
her apron to her eyes, she said in a dismal voice, "Ah! 'tis little
poor Diggory wots of kings and cavaliers!"

What Lucy's indignation would have led her to say next can never be
known, for at this moment in bounced a tall slim boy of thirteen, his
long curling locks streaming tangled behind him. "Hollo!" he
shouted, "what is the matter now? Dainty Deborah in the dumps?
Cheer up, my lass! I'll warrant that doughty Diggory is discreet
enough to encounter no more bullets than he can reasonably avoid!"

This made Deborah throw down her apron and reply, with a toss of the
head, "None of your nonsense, Master Walter, unless you would have me
speak to my lady. Cry for Diggory, indeed!"

"She was really crying for him, Walter," interposed Lucy.

"Mistress Lucy!" exclaimed Deborah, angrily, "the life I lead among