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Updated: May 3, 2025
Yes, I lived in Tennessee until after my husband died. I came to Canton in 1929 to live with my granddaughter, Mrs. Algie Clark. I had three children; they are all dead but I have 6 grandchildren, 8 great-grandchildren and 9 great-great-grandchildren, all living.
You have caught him at the moment when he sees an old gentleman coming down the street and realizes that he has only got to sneak up and stick his little knife 'My dear Polly, I welcome criticism, but this is more Lady Wetherby stroked his coat-sleeve fondly. 'Never mind, Algie, I was only joking, precious. I thought the picture was coming along fine when you showed it to me.
Baron Schack or Schmack who has just taken Cumberland House and who has the awful stammer or what is it? no roof to his mouth is to give that horrid little Algie, to do his conversation for him, four hundred a year, which Harold pretended to me that, of all the rush of young men dozens! HE was most in the running for.
'The very first words I heard Algie speak, Claire, were at Newmarket during the three o'clock race one May afternoon. He was hanging over the rail, yelling like an Indian, and what he was yelling was, "Come on, you blighter, come on! By the living jingo, Brickbat wins in a walk!" And now he's talking about receding from essential positions! Oh, well, he wasn't an artist then! 'My dear Pau Polly.
She remembered, now, having seen Algie Bockheimer at one of his parents' first entertainments, in their newly-inaugurated marble halls in Fifth Avenue. She recalled his too faultless clothes and his small glossy furtive countenance. She looked at Ellie Vanderlyn with sudden scorn. "I think you're abominable," she exclaimed. The other's perfect little face collapsed. "A-bo-minable? A-bo-mi-nable?
He did it this morning, and no sooner had his head appeared above the table than Algie, with a kind of sharp wail, struck him a violent blow on the nose with a teaspoon. Then he turned to me, very pale, and said: 'Pauline, this must end! The time has come to speak up.
Apparently apprehensive that common sense would again yield the field to tradition, she flew: to the window. "Algie!" she shrieked. The boy came on the run. Something in Persis' voice made him aware that the occasion did not admit of trifling. "Algie, jump on your wheel and ride down to Mr. Hardin's store. Tell him that if it's convenient I'd like to see him this evening. Quick now."
Persis nodded affably, at the same time patting the baby which, frightened by the proximity of so many strange faces, was beginning to whimper. "As long as you're here, you might as well see about our trunks. Give Uncle Joel the checks, Algie. No, not that pocket. You put 'em in the right-hand one." The crowd surged nearer and a piping voice made itself heard above the confusion.
But Susy, still blind to everything but the dance of dizzy sparks before her eyes, pressed on as if she had not heard him. "It was their motor, then, that took us to Milan! It was Algie Bockheimer's motor!" She did not know why, but this seemed to her the most humiliating incident in the whole hateful business.
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