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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

Now and again I accompanied Aunt Evelyn to a
garden-party where, as a rule, I competed in a
putting tournament, which was a favourite mode of
entertainment at the time. Solemnly round some-
one's garden I putted, partnered, perhaps, by a
major's wife or a clergyman's daughter. At Squire
Maundle's I won a magnifying glass, and on another
occasion I carried off a carriage-clock. Aunt Evelyn,
who preferred croquet, was extremely pleased, and
my leisurely conquests among herbaceous borders and
yew hedges accentuated the unique pride I had in my
racing Gup. In an exciting match-play final on
Captain Huxtable's mossy and evergreen-shaded
lawn I just failed to capture an ivory paper-
knife.

One week-end in July Stephen came to stay with
us. Artillery life had caused no apparent change in
him. We indulged in cheerful nostalgia for the chase.
After sniffing the trussed hay in the stable-barn, we
contemplated Gockbird and Harkaway in the pad-
dock. We sighed for a nice moist winter morning.
Stephen was hoping to get "attached" to some Gun-
ners who were conveniently stationed in the Ringwcll
country. He could tell me nothing about the new
Master, except that he was already reputed to be a
tireless worker and very well liked by the farmers. For
his benefit I unearthed my early impressions of Denis
Mildcn as I had seen him when he was staying at
Dumborough Castle as a boy. Already Milden was a
very great man in our minds.

My memory of that summer returns like a bee that
comes buzzing into a quiet room where the curtains
are drawn oti a blazing hot afternoon.

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