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Don't see how you've ever stood him so long." "Oh! you don't know Doctor Queerington! It's been a great privilege to have him here, He is a very distinguished man, Miss Ferney, and so kind and good!" "Good or bad, they are all the same to me. Just as soon have a fly under my mosquito bar as a man buzzing around in my house. When's he going?" "To-morrow. Will that be too soon for you to come over?"
Wants me to settle down some place in the country and go at it in earnest." "You don't mean John Jay Queerington, the author?" Miss Lady said eagerly. "Is he really your cousin? Daddy went to school to his father, and has told me so much about him, that without seeing him, I could write a book on the subject."
"Donald ought to return at once," declared Doctor Queerington, when she paused for breath; "if he is guilty, he ought to take his punishment; if innocent, as I believe, he ought to be vindicated." "Well, we can't find him," said Mrs. Sequin with resigned cheerfulness. "He is probably in the Orient with Cropsie Decker. What a magnificent bed this is! Do you suppose I could buy it?
She had not foregone a bridge luncheon to make this tiresome trip to the country for purely altruistic reasons. She had come to prove to herself, and to her circle, the bond of friendship that existed between her and her distinguished cousin. Experience had taught her that an occasional reference to "my favorite cousin, John Jay Queerington, the author, you know," had its influence.
On one of the first days that Doctor Queerington was allowed to sit up, she went in to see him. Her first impression in the darkened room was the kindly clasp of a hand, and a wonderful low voice that spoke words of comfort.
"If I had to marry, I'd rather marry Father than anybody else. But I've never seen the man yet that I'd be willing to marry." "Oh, I have! I know ten right now that I'd marry in a minute." "Connie Queerington! Who are the others beside Gerald and Cousin Don?" "Guess." "Noah Wicker?" Connie laughed. "Mr. Wicker is not as bad as he was. He must have taken chloroform and had his pompadour cut.
Sequin with a manner intended to impress this exceedingly casual person. "Where shall I find my cousin, Doctor Queerington?" "The front room up-stairs, on that side. I'd go up with you, only Miss Ferney Foster, our neighbor, is fitting this lining and she has to get back to her pickles. I wish we were born feathered like birds, don't you?" Mrs.
It makes me awfully lonesome when I think of your leaving. Down here you have just belonged to Miss Wuster and me, and once you get back to town you will be the famous Doctor Queerington again and belong to everybody. I shan't dare write to you for fear I spell a word wrong."
His weekly letters, couched in paragraphs of technical perfection, seemed to her oracles of wisdom and beauty. Then the amazing and unbelievable thing had happened! He, the great Doctor Queerington, her father's friend, her friend, the man whom she respected more than any one else in the world, had chosen her, a young, inexperienced girl to be his wife!
When I think of all the things I have promised you, I can feel my hair turning white. Having polished me off on the don'ts, you aren't going to begin on the do's, are you?" "Indeed I am. Does Doctor Queerington really think you could be a writer?" "He has been after me about it ever since I was a youngster. I'm always scribbling at something, but there is nothing in it.
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