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He returned to America at the end of November; promising to come back and lecture to them the following year. From "My Mark Twain," by W. D. Howells. But if Mark Twain could find nothing to write of in England, he found no lack of material in America. That winter in Hartford, with Charles Dudley Warner, he wrote "The Gilded Age." The Warners were neighbors, and the families visited back and forth.
This result was not attained without strong resistance from Winthrop, who strove to mitigate the punishment to a fine, and from Endicott, who endeavored to obtain remission of the banishment; but in vain the vehemence of Dudley, and the insinuations of Spikeman, overbore all opposition.
You and I shall send him, and he shall be our substitute, and when we hear of him doing brave things, we shall feel it's ourselves. And we'll make him write letters to us and tell us all he is doing oh, it will be splendid. How glad I am he has learned to read and write. Dudley, you just go and fetch him in, will you?"
"Expel them from arithmetic," said Dudley, looking up from a latin exercise, his sunny smile appearing. "Don't you wish we could have a huge dust hole to empty all the nasty people and things in that we don't like?" "Yes I'd shovel the nines in fast enough, and a few eights to keep them company, and then I would throw in all my medicine bottles, and my great coat, and and Mrs.
Max came down late to breakfast, and he had scarcely entered the morning-room when his father handed him the Standard, pointing to a certain paragraph without any comment but a glance at the girls, as a hint to his son not to make any remark which would recall Dudley and his affairs to their minds. The paragraph was as follows: "SHOCKING DISCOVERY!
"Perhaps not, but we've concluded to wait," said Mrs. Dudley. "We can't do much worse if we get nothing at all." After a moment's reflection, Mr. Tinkham said: "I'll do a little better by you, Mrs. Dudley. I'll give you a hundred and fifty. That's the very best I can do." "I will not sell the claim at present," said Mrs. Dudley. "It is of no use to offer." It would have been better if Mrs.
But women had been mixed up in ugly work about gold before, and somehow the vision of my dream girl standing by the safe stuck to me all that day. Suppose I had helped her to cover up a theft from Dudley! It was funny; but the ludicrous side of it did not strike me. What did was that I must see her alone and get rid of the poisonous distrust of her that she, or Marcia, had put into my head.
Course I didn't know what they wanted of the old boy; but it didn't look to be such a wild guess that they'd picked him to play the goat part. I finds him perched up on his stool, calm and serene, workin' away on the ledgers as industrious as if nothin' special was goin' on. "Dudley," says I, "are you feelin' strong?" "Why, Torchy," says he, "I am feeling about as usual, thank you."
She was glad that Nicholas would go; glad, glad, glad so glad that she wept a little in the cold of a dark corner. A week later Dudley came down, and she met him with a friendliness that dismayed and disarmed him. Could a woman be so frankly cordial with a man she loved? Could she face a passion that inspired her with such serene self-poise? He questioned these things, but he did not hesitate.
"By that time," observed David, "we shall be all moved, and we can go to school together in the morning." "But, oh, dear!" groaned Leonora, "that Aunt Jane will get you again, sure! Oh, Dr. Dudley, don't let her go alone, please don't!" Polly laughed happily. It was hard for Leonora to realize that Mrs. Bean had no more power over her beloved friend. But Dr. Dudley did not laugh.
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