He looked wistfully towards the table where
the pressepapier was lying. It was too much for him. He came back and
took it up again. What he wanted with it, or what he would have done
with it if he had got it, I cannot conceive, but it had taken his
simple fancy more, probably, than an emerald of the same size would
have done. At last he put it to his eye.
"Why, darn my cabbage-tree," he said, "if you can't see through it! He
wouldn't sell it, I suppose, now?"
Jim pursed his lips and shook his head, as though to say that such an
idea was not to be entertained, and the lad, with a sigh, laid it down
and departed. Then Jim with a laugh threw his sister's note over to
Sam. I discovered this very same note only last week, while searching
the Buckley papers for information about the family at this period. I
have reason to believe that it has never been printed before, and, as
far as I know, there is no other copy extant, so I proceed to give it
in full.
"What a dear, disagreeable old Jim you are," it begins, "to stay away
there at Baroona, leaving me moping here with our daddy, who is
calculating the explosive power of shells under water at various
temperatures.
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