Paul Kelver

Paul Kelver

envied them. Again, that at the first sign of a cold it became my unavoidable privilege to lunch off linseed gruel and sup off brimstone and treacle--a compound named with deliberate intent to deceive the innocent, the treacle, so far as taste is concerned, being wickedly subordinated to the brimstone--was another example of Fortune's favouritism: other little boys were so astoundingly unlucky as to be left alone when they felt ill. If further proof were needed to convince that I had been signalled out by Providence as its especial protege, there remained always the circumstance that I possessed Mrs. Fursey for my nurse. The suggestion that I was not altogether the luckiest of children was a new departure. The good dame evidently perceived her error, and made haste to correct it. "Oh, you! You are lucky enough," she replied; "I was thinking of your poor mother." "Isn't mamma lucky?" "Well, she hasn't been too lucky since you came." "Wasn't it lucky, her having me?" "I

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