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Updated: June 2, 2025
As publicist the Australians had Bean, a trained journalist, a red-headed blade of a man who was an officer among officers and a man among men and held the respect of all by Australian qualities. If there could be only one chronicler allowed, then Bean's choice had the applause of a corps, though Bean says that Australia is full of just as good journalists who did not have his luck.
But they passed him, all unheeding, moneyed-looking men of good round girth, who seemed to have found the dollar-game worth while. The most of them, he was glad to note, were in dress slightly more advanced than Breede. One of them, a small but important-looking old gentleman with a purple face and a white parted beard, became on the instant Bean's ideal for correctness.
'Possibly Adam, for poor Gardiner, a sort of pun on his name. The other letters were to the same purpose; and they soon received yet more complete light upon Donald Bean's machinations. John Hodges, one of Waverley's servants, who had remained with the regiment and had been taken at Preston, now made his appearance. He had sought out his master with the purpose of again entering his service.
When Polly could think of nothing more, he called up the lawyer by telephone, making an appointment to meet him. Shortly afterwards he put Polly in the auto, and they started for Mrs. Bean's. On the way the little girl thought of her precious locket. "We shall get it if we can," the Doctor told her. "Mrs. Bean appears to be honest about that.
We fought them till near dark, and failing to accomplish anything and losing several killed and wounded fell back to Beall's Station. On the 16th, we fought Longstreet's force at Bean's Station, also on the 17th, and at Rutledge on the 18th. Our troops falling back all the time toward Knoxville, the cavalry doing the fighting, losing several men killed, wounded and captured.
"At once, that is, if you can see your way to do so. But first of all, I should like to visit this old man. I am somewhat curious about him now that he is under my protection. How far is he from here?" "About five miles, I should judge, though I have never been there myself. He is at Mrs. Bean's, and she lives on a back road."
The author of the HISTOIRE DU MONT BLANC introduced the closing sentences of Mr. Bean's pathetic record thus: "Here the characters are large and unsteady; the hand which traces them is become chilled and torpid; but the spirit survives, and the faith and resignation of the dying man are expressed with a sublime simplicity." Perhaps this note-book will be found and sent to you.
Indeed, nobody could have told a story properly without Jake Bean's parentheses and punctuation marks poked in at exciting junctures. "That 's so every time!" he would say, with a lunge at the forestick. "I'll bate he was glad then!" with another stick flung on in just the right spot. "Golly! but that served 'em right!" with a thrust at the backlog.
She was pleased with the girl, and anxious to learn more about her. "I don't mind Sam'l taking you on the boat," she said, "and if you live along the river you can go with him as well as not. But I never heard of the Bean family before. I know about most of the people from St. John to Fredericton." "Miss Bean's home is in the city," John explained.
Bean looked inquiringly at Bulger now. Bulger nodded and presently strolled from his own desk to Bean's, where he left a slip of paper bearing the words, "Cubs, 3; Giants, 2; 1st 1/2 4th." Bean had envied Bulger from the first for this man-of-the-world ease. In actual person not superior to Bean, he had a temperament of daring.
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