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Updated: May 27, 2025
Beirne's nephew!" echoed Carlisle Heth, without the slightest strategy. "Vivian? Who on earth, Willie?" demanded Mrs. Heth, puzzled; and looked, not at Willie, but at Carlisle. "Don't you remember? chap that wrote that fierce slush attackin' the Works, month or so ago? That's the bird. Got rye right here, if you prefer it, Canning. Walked a block with him and old Beirne just now.
In this new palace of labor, faints and swoons were things undreamed of. Yet the creator of all these wonders was well aware that she was not giving her dowry to Miller, exactly.... Descending from the car at her own door, Cally encountered Mr. Pond, of the Settlement. The dark-faced Director was loafing, oddly enough, on Mrs. Mason's steps, which had once been Mr. Beirne's, four doors from home.
Mason, Mr. Beirne's sister. You will like to meet her, Mr. Canning." "Delightful," murmured Mr. Canning. Because of his consistent recluseness, foregone to-night for her pleasure, Carlisle had meant rather to exhibit Mr. Canning to enraptured eyes than to subject him to a flood of undesired introductions.
An uproar punctuated the strange sentence. Mr. Beirne's butler had chosen to-day to take in coal, it seemed; a great wagon discharged with violence at precisely this moment. Two shovelers fell to work, and an old negro who was washing the basement windows at the house next door, the Carmichaels', desisted from his labors and strolled out to watch.
Gad, may move again. Man across the hall bigger rooms wants to sublet. Like you to look at 'em sometime, Cousin Isabel. Say, Cousin Isabel, by the bye," he added, expertly putting ice into three glasses, "ran down that chap V. Vivian for you, just now. Fact. Old Sleuth Kerr catches 'em alive. He's Armistead Beirne's nephew just turned up here what d'you think of that?" "Mr.
Having thus by a trick captured her attention, he made a pleased sort of gesture toward the breast-pocket of his fat-man's coat, and, while she passed silent within a foot of him, said quite eagerly: "I I got the marrons!" In which Mr. Canning must go South for his Health, and Cally lies awake to think. Midnight stillness hung over the House of Heth, five doors from Mr. Beirne's.
Well, instead of writing any more letters about the Works, do you know what it would be exactly like him to do now?" "Throw a bomb in at papa's office-window?" "No, speak to you about it!" laughed Henrietta, unabashed "some time when he sees you at Mr. Beirne's or somewhere ask you in the nicest, most natural way to ask Uncle Thornton if he won't build a new Works!
He made it in mouth-filling phrases, with many teasing generalizations about the ways of the world and the evils of modern society, which was only his gempman's way when playful. But by close application his auditors soon got at the heart of his meaning, to wit: Doctor actually was going uptown to his swell Uncle Beirne's swell Noo Year's reception to-night in Mr. O'Neill's fulldressuit.
Beirne's the outer tumult was echoed in the manner of the well-bred. The doors were shut, with the infant inside; the lights flew up; glasses clinked, merry healths were pledged, new fealties sworn by look alone. Gaiety overcame silence. All talked with one voice. Carlisle Heth descended the stairs in a carriage-robe of blue-and-fur, giving and taking lively good-nights.
"Well," he said, hesitatingly, "we've been through some trouble together...." Then was heard the loud scraping of shovels, and the merry cackle of the old negro, happy because others toiled in the glad morning, while he did not. Cally Heth's white glove rested on Mr. Beirne's polished balustrade, and her piquant lashes fell.
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