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Updated: May 15, 2025
"What was all the row about?" Mr. Prenter asked affably. He was a man of about forty-five, rather stout, with light blue eyes that looked at one with engaging candor. "I have been suggesting to Reade that he might resign," replied Mr. Bascomb, stiffly. "Why?" asked Prenter, opening his eyes wider. "Because he has raised the mischief on this breakwater job.
But Bascomb isn't the majority stockholder nor the whole board of directors, so I'll just drop this hint: When Bascomb talks of resignations don't attach too serious importance to it until you receive a resolution endorsing the same view and passed by the board of directors of the company." "Thank you. I have no intention of resigning," smiled Tom. "Now, let's go on," continued Mr. Prenter. Mr.
"Do you remember a note from Melbourne fourteen or fifteen years ago, telling about your lecture tour in Australia, and your death and burial in Melbourne? a note from Henry Bascomb, of Bascomb Hall, Upper Holywell, Hants." "Yes." "I wrote it." "M-y-word!" "Yes, I did it. I don't know why. I just took the notion, and carried it out without stopping to think. It was wrong. It could have done harm.
Bascomb paused to light one, Mr. Prenter thrust an arm through Tom's and led that youth down the road. "Now, Mr. Reade," murmured the treasurer, earnestly, "Mr. Bascomb, of course, is our president, and I don't want you to treat him with the slightest disrespect.
Rains seemed aware that Merriwell was a spectator, for he braced up and gave Bascomb a merry go for a few minutes, forcing the big fellow back, and seeming to tap him with ease and skill whenever and wherever he chose. When this little flurry was over, Rains threw off his gloves, and declared he had had enough. "So have I," said Bascomb, with a grin.
Davis, you have proved your value this morning!" cried Frank, as he clung to the panting little plebe. "Bascomb will owe you his life, and no one can call you a coward from this time on." The other boys came running to the spot, breathing heavily, and Frank soon explained exactly what had taken place.
"Look here, Baby," he said, "I want you to tell us just what happened to you last night. We want to know the exact facts of the case." With a trace of spirit, Davis looked up, and asked: "Don't you, sir?" "Don't I what?" demanded Bascomb, harshly. "Don't you know?" "What do you mean by that? How should I know?" "I thought you might remember," said Fred, in a low tone.
I promised her I would not fight, and I shall keep my word." "Baby boy!" "Mamma's petsie!" "Softie!" These terms of derision came from several sources, and Frank was swift to note every one. Bascomb laughed again. "You are altogether too good to live, Baby!" he said. "You make me sick!" Frank had kept quiet as long as was possible.
"This time you'll hurry out of camp." "Are you going to stand for it, men?" yelled Evarts, his face aflame with anger. "Come on -all of you! Show that you're not a pack of cowards and slaves!" From more than a hundred throats came an ominous yell. The crowd surged around Reade and Hazelton. Mr. Bascomb, seeing his chance, dodged and ran out of the crowd. But Mr.
Bascomb really fit to be trusted?" Prescott propounded. "Mr. Prenter seems to think so, and he is a capable judge of men," Tom rejoined. "It is the combination of all these circumstances taken together that makes me so curious over Mr. Bascomb's being willing to bail the fellow." "Oh, well, it's too much of a puzzle for us," said Harry, shrugging his shoulders.
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