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Updated: May 31, 2025
We are always losing the happiness of our to-days; and our to-morrows never come." I sighed my response, and sat for a long time silent. When the tea bell interrupted me from my reverie, Arty lay fast asleep on my bosom. As I kissed him on his way to his mother's arms, I said, "Dear baby! may it be your first and last pursuit of a shadow." "No no! Not yet, my sweet one!" answered Mrs.
"I'd cheerfully given more, Arty, to beat that corporation. A twenty-dollar bill or so, you know! But money is tight. I've scraped and scraped for years to start my bank at Ross Valley, and every dollar wasted retards the village. You boys have cost me a sight of money.
Outside, down the street, Arty and Catty ran hand-in-hand to fetch the doctor, their sobbing checked by a mastering sense of their service and importance. And the man, more helpless than any child, clung to the woman's hand and waited with her for her hour. As he waited he looked round the shabby room, and saw for the first time how poor a place it was.
He sat uneasy till the hand of cards was finished, feeling as though they were only tolerating him. And Nelly Croubel was nowhere in sight. Suddenly said Mrs. Arty, "And now you would like to look at that room, Mr. Wrenn, unless I'm wrong." "Why uh yes, I guess I would like to." "Come with me, child," she said, in pretended severity.
"Here is Arty, finished!" interrupted Connie, who every little while had looked through the door at the young man. She jumped up. "Come along in and see what it is this time." They all went in, jostling and joking one another. Arty was standing up in the middle of the room looking at some much blotted slips of paper.
"O Walter," he said, "I couldn't go to sleep for joy; Every one's praising you to the skies. I am so proud of you, and it is so very good of you to be friends with me." "Tush, Arty," said Walter smiling; "one would think I'd done something great to hear you talk, whereas really it was nothing out of the way. I meant to have taken you with us, but I thought it would be too far for you."
Arty's, a boarding-house "where all the folks likes each other." "You've never fed at a boarding-house, eh?" said Tom. "Well, I guess most of 'em are pretty poor feed. And pretty sad bunch. But Mrs. Arty's is about as near like home as most of us poor bachelors ever gets. Nice crowd there. If Mrs. Arty Mrs. R. T. Ferrard is her name, but we always call her Mrs.
With what he intended to be deep subtlety Mr. Wrenn drew her away to the barroom, and these two children, over two glasses of ginger-ale, looked their innocent and rustic love so plainly that Mrs. Arty and Tom sneaked away. Nelly cut out a dance, which she had promised to a cigar-maker, and started homeward with Mr. Wrenn.
Ebbitt inspected Horatio Hood Teddem darkly, clicked his spectacle case sharply shut, and fell to eating, as though he had settled all this nonsense. With occasional witty interruptions from the actor, Mr. Wrenn told of pitching hay, of the wit of Morton, and the wickedness of Satan, the boss. "But you haven't told us about the brave things you did," cooed Mrs. Arty.
For in such cases I'm apt to be the one that's handiest, and you know what that means. It's a matter of Torchy being joshed into tacklin' any old proposition that may be batted up, with Mr. Robert standin' by ready to spring the grin. Take this little go of his with the Hallam Beans excuse me, the F. Hallam Beans. Doesn't that sound arty? Well, that's what they were, this pair. Nothing but.
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