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Updated: May 3, 2025
He himself might drink a good deal, for, thanks to that prescription of Blight's, he found himself extremely well, and he had been careful to take no lunch. He had not felt so well for weeks. Puffing out his lower lip, he gave his last instructions: "Adolf, the least touch of the West India when you come to the ham."
I thought the Blight's face showed a signal of relief. "I'm going to play short-stop," I added. "Oh!" said the Blight, with a smile, but the little sister said with some scorn: "You!" "I'll show you," I said, and I told the Blight about base-ball at the Gap.
All those weary waiting months he had clung grimly to his work. He must have heard from her sometimes, else I think he would have gone to her; but I knew the Blight's pen was reluctant and casual for anybody, and, moreover, she was having a strenuous winter at home. That he knew as well, for he took one paper, at least, that he might simply read her name.
His Honor was visibly affected and to cover it his methods being informal he said with sharp irrelevancy: "Who bailed this young feller out last night?" The sergeant spoke: "Why, Mr. Marston thar" with outstretched finger toward the young engineer. The Blight's black eyes leaped with exultant appreciation and the engineer turned crimson.
Sam would shout back defiance. But when the trumpet sounded he sat leaning forward with his brow wrinkled and his big hands clinched tight. Marston sped up the course first three rings and there was a chorus of applauding yells. "His horse is gittin' tired," said the Hon. Sam jubilantly, and the Blight's face, I noticed, showed for the first time faint traces of indignation.
Marston's horse was so lame and tired that he dismounted and let a darky boy lead him under the shade of the trees. But he stood on foot among the other knights, his arms folded, worn out and vanquished, but taking his bitter medicine like a man. I thought the Blight's eyes looked pityingly upon him. The Hon.
The Blight's face was white and the little sister was gripping my arm with both hands. A third horseman shot into view out of the woods at tight angles, to stop them, and it seemed that the three horses must crash together in a heap. With a moan the Blight buried her face on my shoulder.
And ever since he has been attending to his business, and every time I meet him he seems running over with happiness, joy, and good health." "Father, wasn't he supposed to be suffering from a very severe case of Blight's disease?" "Yes, he had a consultation of three of our best physicians, and they pronounced it Bright's disease."
As I stepped over the pavement the man seemed to think that I was moving toward him, for he roused himself quickly and walked rapidly up the street. I laughed at his fright and turned on my way downtown, for I was thinking of myself and of what I had lost, and I had no care for shivering tramps. I reached the corner. Rufus Blight's words came back to me.
A commercial life alone seemed left to me, and then I remembered the million kegs of nails, and I recalled Rufus Blight's achievement of giving away a prize with every pound of tea. Here indeed was a march through waste-lands. You will think that I was a dreamy, egotistical youth for whom not only the ways of home but the ways of the mass of his fellows were not quite good enough. Perhaps I was.
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