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Gardner, she's as happy as the day is long. Much too happy, she says, to go about paying calls." "I haven't called much, have I?" said Anne, hoping that her friend would draw the suggested inference. "No, you haven't. You ought to be ashamed of yourself." "Why I any more than Mrs. Gardner? But I am." Mrs. Eliott perceived her blunder. "Well, I forgive you, as long as you're happy."
Following the deeply-rutted street, which had a narrow, plank sidewalk, they reached the Imperial hotel; a somewhat pretentious, double-storeyed building of unpainted wood, with a verandah in front of it. Here Gardner took the pony from them and gave them a room which had no furniture except a chair and two rickety iron beds.
The constable is there and so are Judge Kendrick, Senator Culver, and a few others, but we need help and I've come for it!" He spoke in such a rapid, tense manner that every word carried conviction. "Excuse me for not knowing you, Harry," Gardner said, "but you're calling at a rather unusual time in a rather unusual manner, and you have the most thorough mask of mud I ever saw on anybody.
To do so would only add to her anxieties, probably to no good purpose, for he did not believe that she would desert Miss Van Arsdale, ill and helpless, on any selfish consideration. Fidelity was one of the virtues with which he had unconsciously garlanded Io. Then, too, Gardner might not come anyway.
The apprehensiveness with which Gardner was afflicted "is further exemplified by an anecdote told by Admiral Sir James Whitshed, who commanded the Alligator, next him in the line.
"Then you came up after me, Tom?" exclaimed Blake. "You wouldn't have got much farther with that team; but who sent you?" "I don't quite know. It seems that Gardner got orders from somebody that you were to be found, and he hired me and the boys.
"That's official, isn't it?" said Gardner mildly. "Yes." "Well?" "And this is official," added Banneker calmly. "The company can go to hell. Tell that to the D.S. with my compliments, will you?" "Certainly not. I don't want to get you into trouble. I like you. But I've got to land this story. If you won't take me to the place, I'll find some one in the village that will.
One of the sealers was owned by an old, hard-fisted miser of Puritanic pattern, whose sweet niece Mary, pretty and simply good, makes the very lovable heroine of this book. Beneath the low porch and within the thrifty garden and great orchard of her island home, Mary's heart had been captured by Roswell Gardner, the daring young captain of her uncle's schooner The Sea Lion.
Albert Bushnell Hart's The Southern South is the result of more study and investigation than any other Northerner has given to the sociology of the South, but the author's prejudices interfere with the value of his conclusions. The late Edgar Gardner Murphy in Problems of the Present South discusses with wisdom and sanity many Southern questions which are still undecided.
"I seen the track of that busted tire plain in the half-dried mud, little ways up the trail. Whoever it was done this, has went right up there. When we get a few of the fellers together we'll start. To-morrow morning, early." "To-morrow!" said Sim. "Why, Wid " Wid Gardner laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's the best we can do, Sim," said he.
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