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It was this tincture of culture running like a light bluing through Lindsley's heritage that began to set in motion the little sleeping molecules of Lilly's class consciousness. "Middle class," came to be a term employed always with lips that curled.
In Raymond's party the suffering from thirst had become intolerable. Lindsley's back had been broken early in the forenoon, but Raymond declared that he would never yield he would die first. "What's the use?" demanded Lindsley. "We are whipped out, sold out, played out, and used up. My tongue is as dry as a piece of wash-leather." "I don't like to give it up," replied Raymond.
He stood five minutes in indecision, then turned and began to walk rapidly in the opposite direction. At Breckinridge he found a stage, and getting out at Gager's he went down the trail toward Lindsley's. Now Davy Lindsley had been in a terrible state of ferment.
I'm going to meet him some day. Lindsley! Ugh! I like a little sponduliks thrown in with a fellow. Lindsley's elbows shine." For the most part the Board of Education drew upon the offspring of its own system for teaching talent, occasionally letting in an artery of new blood.
And Jacques Bourdon, the half-breed who had "filed on" the claim alongside Lindsley's, and even claimed unjustly a "forty" of Lindsley's town plot, had no difficulty in securing the sympathy of the settlers and nomads, who looked on Lindsley as a monster quite capable of anything.
A Lindsley had once presented an emperor with a hand-illuminated version of the King James Bible, wrought out of peasant patience. Horace Lindsley's mother belonged to a New England suffrage society when ladies still wore silk mitts, and had dared to open a private kindergarten in her back parlor after marriage.
If we are allowed to see the country, and have a good time, every fellow will be satisfied," replied Raymond. "But I think it will all come round right if we keep a stiff upper lip, and stand up for our rights. I like Lindsley's idea first rate. We can talk that up, and it will help us out, if nothing else will.
There were, then, actually men creatures outside the English "Fireside Novels" she was allowed to devour without interruption by parents to whom books were largely objects with which a room was cluttered up, who wore spats, did play tennis in white flannels, turned down the page at a favorite passage of poetry, eschewed suspenders for belts, were guiltless of sleeve garters, and attended Saturday-afternoon symphony concerts, in Lindsley's case, almost a lone male, debonaire and unabashed in a garden of women.
It is more than probable that Horace Lindsley's and Lilly Becker's lineage were loamy with about the same magnesia of the soil. Generations of each of them had tilled into the more or less contiguous dirt of Teutonic Europe. Lilly's progenitors had bartered in low Dutch; Horace Lindsley's in high German, which, after all, is more a matter of geography than altitudes.
He was at Pelican Lake next morning, and no man suspected his share in the affair except Gager, who had sense enough to say nothing. And Emilia lay down and dreamed of angels about the house. One was like Thorwaldsen's "Morning," and the other wore long hair and beard, and was very tall. This abortive attempt to make a skyrocket out of Lindsley's cabin wrought only good to Emilia at first.
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