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Updated: June 12, 2025
Beecham and he were in the habit of using that word, whether appropriate or inappropriate. This was the explanation of the white necktie and the formal dress which had puzzled Ursula. Horace Northcote was not of Mr. Beecham's class.
His overseer, jackeroos, and other employees were all allowed the freedom of home, and could invite whom they pleased to Five-Bob Downs. It is all very well to talk of good hosts. Bah, I could be a good hostess myself if I had Harold Beecham's superior implements of the art!
It was he who was the best judge as to what he had a right to be annoyed about. The family party were in Mr. Beecham's study, where the large bust of Mr. Copperhead stood on the mantelpiece, the chief decoration. How could any one be so wicked as to rebel against the influence of so great a personage? Phoebe had her own ideas, but she was wise and kept them to herself. "And now," said Mrs.
"I'm from Albany...." They were interrupted by Mr. Beecham's returning. "The horse is coming," he announced. Mrs. Beecham entered the room. "Thank you for your hospitality," said Tom. "It has been a pleasure," replied Mrs. Beecham. "A pleasure, sir a pleasure," responded her husband. Tom's dislike for the deception he was practising made him want to run from the house.
They had a certain basic ordinariness which prevented their making any great hits, and which kept them disillusioned all the while. They remembered their poor and insignificant days. "And I hear you were playing in the orchestra at Covent Garden. We came back from London last week. I enjoyed Beecham's operas so much." "Which do you like best?" said Aaron. "Oh, the Russian. I think Ivan.
It seems difficult to imagine what connection there could be between Phoebe Beecham's appearance in Grange Lane and the interview which took place there between her and the "new gentleman," and Mr. May's sudden onslaught upon his family, which ended in Reginald's acceptance of the chaplaincy. But yet the connection was very distinct.
Beecham's congregation, some of whom were hot Voluntaries, and gave their ministers a little trouble. But the most part took their Nonconformity very quietly, and were satisfied to know that their chapel was the first in the connection, and their minister justly esteemed as one of the most eloquent.
"Yes, when one comes to think of that. But then, you see, wealth has its duties. I don't defend Mr. Copperhead " "I don't think he wants to be defended, mamma. I think it is all nonsense about wasting time. What I incline to, if you won't be shocked, is black." "Black!" The suggestion took away Mrs. Beecham's breath. "As if you were fifty! Why, I don't consider myself old enough for black."
Beecham's conversation about the war, conditions in the South, his hatred of the North and the abolitionists, occupied most of Tom's attention. It was difficult to play the role of Southerner; he wanted to protest against some of the things the older man said. There was slight opportunity for him to reply, however, and so he simply nodded, apparently agreeing heartily.
"Now, Ursula," she said, "if you had played your cards properly that beautiful bridegroom and that nice little house in Mayfair, and the privilege, perhaps, of writing M.P. after your name some time or other, might all have been yours instead of Miss Beecham's. Why did you let her carry off the prize?" "Cousin Sophy!" cried Ursula indignantly. "As if I ever thought of him as a prize!
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