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"Oh, I did not refer to any resemblance of feature or complexion, but his manner, and sometimes his expression, strikes me as very similar. I suppose because he was associated with him so much, you know." Mr. Whitney's eyes again wandered to the face of the secretary. He started involuntarily. "By George!" he ejaculated, mentally, "Hugh Mainwaring, as sure as I live!
"Yes," said Charlotte Chatterton, "I came to ask if you would get up something nice to celebrate the home-coming of all the family from Brierly; and Mr. Whitney's family are to come too, next week. Will you, Miss Rhys?" "Well, I never!" cried Alexia Rhys, sinking into the first chair she could find. "You want me I shouldn't think you would," she added truthfully.
The central hall is chiefly devoted to sculpture, including Karl Bitter's strong and characteristic group, "The Signing of the Louisiana Purchase Treaty," Daniel Chester French's "Alice Freeman Palmer Memorial," both winners of the medal of honor, Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney's fine central fountain, and other important work.
Whitney's little boudoir, engaged in sending out invitations for an elaborate tea-party to be given by one of the dolls, when Polly rushed in with consternation in her tones, and dismay written all over her face. "What is it, dear?" asked Mrs. Whitney, looking up from her embroidery.
Whitney's neck; and then with the other hand took hold of both of Polly's chubby ones, who looked up and smiled; and in that smile the little brown house seemed to hop right out, and bring back in a flash all the nice times those eight happy weeks had brought him. "Oh, 'twas so perfectly splendid, sister Marian," he cried, flinging himself down on the floor by her chair.
Lockwood was down there ahead of us all, peering under the heavy body fearfully, as if he expected to see two forms of mangled flesh. He straightened up, then took the lantern and flashed it about. There was nothing except cushions and a few parts of the car within the radius of its gleam. "Where are they?" he demanded, turning to us. "It's Whitney's car, all right." Burke shook his head.
He isn't now!" But will not my readers agree with me that she was a genuine wife, mother, housekeeper, in short, a "chink-filler?" "A Summer in Leslie Goldthwaite's Life," one of the most charming, as well as one of the most helpful of Adeline D.T. Whitney's books, was sent into the world over a quarter-century ago.
"Wait," Foster laid a restraining hand on Whitney's shoulder as the latter made a hasty step in the detective's direction. "I assure you, Mitchell, that the so-called studio is Mr. Whitney's workshop; he is, as you no doubt know, an inventor." Whitney opened his mouth to speak, then closed his jaws with a snap. "Mr. Whitney is now engaged upon a most important invention.
The very importance of Whitney's invention made it immensely profitable for the vicious and the depraved to seize and appropriate the inventor's rights. These robberies were upheld by those who were anxious to share in the profits; and political demagogues made themselves popular by misrepresenting Whitney, and clamoring against the law that was intended to protect him.
I made this discovery in a spinney, or copse, near a small tarn some half mile to the eastward of Fernbridge's precincts. I am aware that the resident populace hereabout customarily refer to this spot as the wet woods back of Whitney's Bog, but I infinitely prefer the English phraseology as more euphonious and at the same time more poetic.
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