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Then we heard true stories of the old mad days, tales of grim burlesque and sordid tragedy, which have never been written, and would not be credited if they were, though their faint echoes may still be heard between the Willow River and Ashcroft on the Thompson.
You may confide in me, as I am the cousin of Carl's mother. "The fact is, Carl and Mrs. Crawford didn't hit it off very well." "And you took sides against your own son, said Ashcroft, indignantly. "I begin to think I was wrong, Reuben. You don't know how I have missed the boy. "Yet you sent him out into the world without a penny." "How do you know that?" asked Dr. Crawford quickly.
His outward appearance and mode of life certainly justified the above appendix to his personality, and it was so blazoned that it could be seen and heard all over British Columbia. He had but one competitor, and that was "Dirty Harry," who at one time frequented the streets of Ashcroft. No other name could have distinguished him so completely from the other members of the human family.
Whether it was the private conference, or the moving stairs, or the Pantages, or whether it was that Ashcroft became more careless with success, and Vancouver more careful with defeat, will never be known. They pierced no more bull's eyes and sometimes they missed the entire target. They had every qualification essential to the successful curler but talent.
How could I be so imprudent?" said Mrs. Crawford, clasping her hands, and counterfeiting distress. Ashcroft set himself at once to save his friend from the result of the shock. "Leave the room!" he said, sternly, to Mrs. Crawford. "Why should I? I am his wife." "And have sought to be his murderer. You know that he has heart disease. Mrs. Cook, I know more about you than you suppose." Mrs.
"Thus, having come to naked bankruptcy, Let us part friends, as thrifty tradesmen do When common ventures fail, for it may be These battered oaths and rhymes may yet ring true To some fair woman's hearing, so that she Will listen and think of love, and I of you." F. Ashcroft Wheeler. Revisions.
This Ashcroft bachelor fellow was a sentimental monstrosity. He was imbued with the superstition that one must love, and be loved, before one could marry. No aphorism could be further removed from the truth.
Within the space of a year he was back at his position at Ashcroft more lonely than ever. It was of no avail he was hoodooed. He could not love. At this juncture he made another and final discovery, and it was the most important one he had made at this period of his renaissance. He found out that "get busy" had two meanings. It meant "forget love of all kinds and go to it in a business-like way."
"I am sorry to say," she remarked, with a forced laugh, "that I have laid away the will so carefully that I can't find it." Ashcroft fixed a searching look upon her, that evidently annoyed her. "I may be able to find it to-morrow," she resumed. "I think you told me, Paul," said Ashcroft, turning to Dr. Crawford, "that by the will your estate is divided equally between Carl and Mrs. Crawford."
How this crude bud ever anticipated blooming out into a society blossom was a conundrum. Perhaps he had some secret method buried in the same box with his hoarded coin. His long evenings were passed reading the Family Herald and Weekly Star and the Ashcroft Journal by candle-light; for those were the only papers he would subscribe for.
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