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Evelyn, with an exquisite satisfaction, which Fleda could hear in her voice. "You remember the story of Lot and Abraham, Mr. Stackpole when a quarrel arose between them? not about roses." Mr. Stackpole looked as if women were to say the least incomprehensible. "Five thousand a week!" he repeated. "I wish there was a Dead Sea for them all to sheer off into!" said Thorn.
"We accuses them of murderin' an' robbin' John Stackpole, an old miner, who was on his way tew San Francisco from th' diggin's; an' what's more, we saw 'em do it with our own eyes; an' are ready tew swear tew th' same afore any judge an' jury. Ain't we Spike?" and he turned to a small man, with a pockmarked face, who was standing close to Bud. "True as preachin'," declared the small man.
"With flowing dresses, and blowing hair, And eyes that no shadow knew, Like the growing light of a morning bright The dawn of the summer blue! Whether it was from the reader's enjoyment or good giving of these lines, or from Edith's delight in them, he was frequently interrupted with bursts of laughter. "I can understand that," said Mr. Stackpole, "without any difficulty."
Arneel, seriously, "I want to say here that Mr. Stackpole, Mr. Merrill, Mr. Hand, and myself have been to a certain extent investors in this stock, and up to this afternoon we felt it to be our duty, not so much to ourselves as to the various banks which have accepted this stock as collateral and to the city at large, to sustain it as much as possible. We believed in Mr. Hull and Mr. Stackpole.
But in the space of two minutes she came over to the centre- table again, with an open magazine in her hand. "Mr. Carleton," said the lady, "you must read this for me, and tell me what you think of it, will you, Sir? I have been showing it to Mr. Stackpole, and he can't see any beauty in it; and I tell him it is his fault, and there is some serious want in his composition.
But I suppose I shall make my own atmosphere. That's the true way then you can breathe. Your surroundings seem very attractive." "Ah, we too are a lovely group!" said Ralph. "Wait a little and you'll see." Miss Stackpole showed every disposition to wait and evidently was prepared to make a considerable stay at Gardencourt.
Witness, then, the arrival of Benoni Stackpole at the office of Frank Algernon Cowperwood. He was at the end of his tether, and Cowperwood was the only really rich man in the city not yet involved in this speculation.
"I always thought it was so exquisite!" said Florence. "I was so struck with it," said Constance, "that I have been looking ever since for an object to waste my affections upon." "Hush, Constance!" said her mother. "Don't you like it, Mr. Carleton?" "I should like to hear Miss Ringgan's commentary," said Mr. Stackpole; "I can't anticipate it.
She felt the need of his holy counsels and the reading of scriptural passages. She was used to queerness in her master, but if he were going crazy all of a sudden, why that would be a different matter altogether. So presently she was confiding to her spiritual adviser. Mr. Stackpole returned to the porch and sat down again and waited for what was to be.
"No, no, not that," said Mr. Stackpole; "but it all goes to fill them with absurd notions about their place in society, inconsistent with proper subordination." Fleda looked at him, but shook her head slightly and was silent. "Things are in very different order on our side the water," said Mr. Stackpole hugging himself. "Are they?" said Fleda.
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