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Truesdale bowed himself out of the house with no apparent diminution of grace and prestige. "How inexhaustible are the beauties of nature," he thought "Wisconsin nature. I must make another sketching-tour before long."
She had not kissed her own mother for ten years. Within a month after Truesdale Marshall's return home the understanding between himself and his father might fairly have been classified among the facts accomplished; and it was brought about, too, by those indefinite courses, those impalpable procedures through which, in actual life, so many understandings are really arrived at.
He at once bowed his head over Belden's desk, so as to hide his face among its papers. "A gentleman to see you sir?" he suggested with a magnificent readiness. Belden raised his own head and met the careless nod of the passing Truesdale with a forbidding frown. "No, he doesn't want to see me. And I don't want to see him," he muttered in a lower tone.
"In the first one, mother and Roger and Alice and her husband. In the second, Arthur and Rosy and Truesdale and me. In the third, Aunt Lydia and the Bateses it will be full if Lottie and William both come. I can do that much for Aunt Lyddy," concluded Jane, with a rueful yet whimsical smile. "Where do you put me?" asked Brower, with an inviolate sobriety.
Be sure of your footing; don't stumble and break your neck at the last minute one poor last little chance, after so many glorious opportunities have gone by!" "'Sh, Truesdale!" whispered his aunt. For there were other people in the elevator, and they looked askance at this smart volley of verbal superfluities. He led them out to the carriage.
"I believe that for every one man who leaves the polling-place with a waning confidence in the present and a clouded hope for the future, there are scores who thus leave the lower courts of justice." "Oh, very well," replied Truesdale, throwing out his hands in his light French fashion.
Truesdale cried, in laughing protest, "they'll all smell this for fifty feet around." Jane gave her brother a commendatory pat, and said no word. She felt that he was now ready for conquest. Speech was superfluous. "No, I can't smell it," said Jane, again; "I think he must have exaggerated. He's going off in the other direction, anyway." Mrs. Bates touched her elbow. "Who's that dark girl in pink?
And at two o'clock No. 14 started northward on what was to prove a most eventful run in the history of the M. & T. The train rattled over the yard switches, slid creaking under the brakes down to the river, rumbled across the bridge, and then toiled up the first of the long grades between Truesdale and Sawyerville.
Downstairs, McNally and Porter sat for a long time with only a desultory conversation. Then McNally said, "Porter, I envy you a daughter like that." "She is a good girl," Porter replied. The fight for the possession of the Manchester and Truesdale Railroad divides itself naturally into two acts.
It seemed to Truesdale, just now, as if she might be engaged in a mental review of his probable experiences abroad there, certainly, was an opportunity offered. "But now that you are back again we expect you to settle down and be good a useful member of society, you know." She threw a coquettish smile on the young man and banished the imaginary guitar.
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