Read Online Chance of a Lifetime by Grace Livingston Hill - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
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trembled with their eagerness and haste, and was soon on her way to the station. The morning seemed to have suddenly become golden.
The bunch was all there on the platform, chattering like so many blackbirds when Alan and Bob arrived at the station, and Lancey Kennedy shyly among the rest. No sooner had they sighted Bob when they sent up a cheer, led by Phil Mattison.
“Lincoln! Lincoln! Link! Link! Lincoln!
Lincoln! Lincoln! Robert of Lincoln!
Bob O’Link! Bob O’Link!
Spinck! Spank! Spinck!”
Then Riggs Rathbone, the lad who owned what the others were pleased to call a “whiskey tenor,” sprang upon the baggage truck and, signing for attention, broke into a ballad to the tune of “Old Grimes Is Dead.”
“Wake up, good Rockland citizens,
Wake up from your long nap!
Bob Lincoln’s sailing Egypt way
To put us on the map!
To put us on the map, my friends,
Put Rockland on the map!
Bob Lincoln’s sailing Egypt way
To put us on the map!”
Amid laughter and cheers, he began another verse in stentorian tones, and everybody hushed to listen, all on a broad grin.
“Look out King Tut, your poor old mutt!
Warn all your mummy friends!
Bob Lincoln’s sailing down their way!
All secrecy now ends—”
There were eleven verses, each funnier than the last, dealing with phrases such as “buried cities,” and “a thousand pities,” and ending with “he’ll broadcast every one.”
Each one was in a gale of laughter when the song was done, and then a quiet seemed to fall upon them and they gathered in small groups and began to talk. Several came up to Bob and said nice things to him, wished him well, congratulated him on the honor he had won to be going on such a notable expedition and in such distinguished company.
Robert Lincoln’s face was white with astonishment and humble surprise. He was almost embarrassed by everybody’s friendliness. It needed only a distant glimpse of his disagreeable brother-in-law driving by on the street, just as the crowd set up another cheer, to be fairly overwhelming. He turned his face in embarrassment as the brother looked on in amazement.
“Lincoln! Lincoln! Rah! Rah, rah!
Bob Lincoln! Bob Lincoln!
Egypt! Egypt! Egypt!”
Looking around to find his own confidence, he saw Lancey Kennedy standing shyly just behind him, with shining eyes and a glow on her face that reminded him of the pink hollyhock near which she had stood an hour ago. He stepped quickly back and stood beside her, stooping to speak to her in a low tone.
“I told Mac,” he said guardedly. “He’s awfully glad to know about it. He says it makes things a lot plainer. They won’t bring your name in. He seemed terribly grateful to you.”
Lancey’s heart warmed with joy, and her smile gave all the answer that was needed, even without the murmured “I’m glad” that she managed to voice.
Then suddenly there was a stir among the crowd. The train was coming. Far down the track, it showed a speck of unfolding black with a plume of gray.
Riggs Rathbone jumped upon the baggage truck again and began to sing, and as everyone around took up the words, Robert Lincoln stooped over with a sudden impulse and whispered into Lancey’s ear, “Would you mind if I wrote to you sometimes?”
“Oh! That would be wonderful,” murmured Lancey softly.
“Thanks awfully!” said Robert. “That’ll mean a lot to me, to have a girl back home!” He caught her hand in a quick, warm clasp, and dropped it again before anyone could notice. Then the tide of song swept around them and Lancey, with starry eyes, joined her voice, singing from her heart,
“God be with you till we meet again—”
The train was coming faster now. It had just stopped at Millville Junction, for a second, to take on a passenger at the signal, and now it was approaching all too fast.
“When life’s perils thick confound you,
Put His arms unfailing round you!”
sang Lancey and then looked up at Robert with her heart in her
The bunch was all there on the platform, chattering like so many blackbirds when Alan and Bob arrived at the station, and Lancey Kennedy shyly among the rest. No sooner had they sighted Bob when they sent up a cheer, led by Phil Mattison.
“Lincoln! Lincoln! Link! Link! Lincoln!
Lincoln! Lincoln! Robert of Lincoln!
Bob O’Link! Bob O’Link!
Spinck! Spank! Spinck!”
Then Riggs Rathbone, the lad who owned what the others were pleased to call a “whiskey tenor,” sprang upon the baggage truck and, signing for attention, broke into a ballad to the tune of “Old Grimes Is Dead.”
“Wake up, good Rockland citizens,
Wake up from your long nap!
Bob Lincoln’s sailing Egypt way
To put us on the map!
To put us on the map, my friends,
Put Rockland on the map!
Bob Lincoln’s sailing Egypt way
To put us on the map!”
Amid laughter and cheers, he began another verse in stentorian tones, and everybody hushed to listen, all on a broad grin.
“Look out King Tut, your poor old mutt!
Warn all your mummy friends!
Bob Lincoln’s sailing down their way!
All secrecy now ends—”
There were eleven verses, each funnier than the last, dealing with phrases such as “buried cities,” and “a thousand pities,” and ending with “he’ll broadcast every one.”
Each one was in a gale of laughter when the song was done, and then a quiet seemed to fall upon them and they gathered in small groups and began to talk. Several came up to Bob and said nice things to him, wished him well, congratulated him on the honor he had won to be going on such a notable expedition and in such distinguished company.
Robert Lincoln’s face was white with astonishment and humble surprise. He was almost embarrassed by everybody’s friendliness. It needed only a distant glimpse of his disagreeable brother-in-law driving by on the street, just as the crowd set up another cheer, to be fairly overwhelming. He turned his face in embarrassment as the brother looked on in amazement.
“Lincoln! Lincoln! Rah! Rah, rah!
Bob Lincoln! Bob Lincoln!
Egypt! Egypt! Egypt!”
Looking around to find his own confidence, he saw Lancey Kennedy standing shyly just behind him, with shining eyes and a glow on her face that reminded him of the pink hollyhock near which she had stood an hour ago. He stepped quickly back and stood beside her, stooping to speak to her in a low tone.
“I told Mac,” he said guardedly. “He’s awfully glad to know about it. He says it makes things a lot plainer. They won’t bring your name in. He seemed terribly grateful to you.”
Lancey’s heart warmed with joy, and her smile gave all the answer that was needed, even without the murmured “I’m glad” that she managed to voice.
Then suddenly there was a stir among the crowd. The train was coming. Far down the track, it showed a speck of unfolding black with a plume of gray.
Riggs Rathbone jumped upon the baggage truck again and began to sing, and as everyone around took up the words, Robert Lincoln stooped over with a sudden impulse and whispered into Lancey’s ear, “Would you mind if I wrote to you sometimes?”
“Oh! That would be wonderful,” murmured Lancey softly.
“Thanks awfully!” said Robert. “That’ll mean a lot to me, to have a girl back home!” He caught her hand in a quick, warm clasp, and dropped it again before anyone could notice. Then the tide of song swept around them and Lancey, with starry eyes, joined her voice, singing from her heart,
“God be with you till we meet again—”
The train was coming faster now. It had just stopped at Millville Junction, for a second, to take on a passenger at the signal, and now it was approaching all too fast.
“When life’s perils thick confound you,
Put His arms unfailing round you!”
sang Lancey and then looked up at Robert with her heart in her
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