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Updated: June 28, 2025
These facts Nan, at least, did not learn till later; she ran off to the skating rink, secure in the thought that her father's trouble with Mr. Ravell Bulson was over. She hoped she might never see that grouchy fat man again. But Fate had in store for her another meeting with the disagreeable Mr. Bulson, and this fell out in a most surprising way.
"I don't feel so funny," snarled his parent, finally extricating himself unaided from the tangle. "Sure you're not hurt, Junior?" "No, I'm not hurt," repeated the boy. "Nor Buster ain't hurt. And see this girl, Pop. Buster knows her." Mr. Ravell Bulson just then obtained a clear view of Nan Sherwood, against whom the little dog was crazily leaping.
Look at Pop!" exclaimed the crippled boy, who seemed not to have been hurt at all in the accident. Mr. Ravell Bulson was trying to struggle out from under the cab. And to his credit he was not thinking of himself at this time. "How's Junior?" he gasped. "Are you hurt, Junior?" "No, Pop, I ain't hurt," said the boy with the braces. "But, Jingo! you do look funny."
"I don't think so, Professor," Bess replied. "Only Nan's feelings. That man ought to be ashamed of himself for speaking so of Mr. Sherwood." "Oh, I know what I'm talking about!" cried the fat man, blusteringly. "Then you can tell it all to me, Ravell Bulson," bruskly interposed the professor again. "Come along to my cabin and I'll fix you up. Mrs.
Ravell Bulson had been to the automobile manufacturers with whom Mr. Sherwood had a tentative contract, and had threatened to sue Mr. Sherwood if he did not return to him, Bulson, his lost watch and chain and roll of bankbills, amounting to several hundred dollars. The automobile manufacturers had served notice on Mr.
"But there must be some good in that fat man," Nan said, reflectively. "Humph! Now find some excuse for him, Nan Sherwood!" said her chum. "No. Not an excuse. He maligned Papa Sherwood and I can't forgive him. But his little boy thinks the world of him, I can see; and Mr. Bulson is very fond of the little boy 'Junior, as he calls him." "Well," quoth Bess, "so does a tiger-cat love its kittens.
"That isn't much to tell and I don't like her nor any of her name," snapped Mr. Bulson. "But you'll tell me about the snowed-up train?" "Yes, yes!" cried his father, impatiently, anxious to get his lame son away from Nan's vicinity. "I'll tell you all about it."
The Wurtemburg division kept the bridge which it had built, and held the road from Sedan to Mézières. At five o'clock, the 2d Bavarian Corps, with the artillery at its head, detached one of its divisions, and sent it by Bulson upon Frénois; the other division passed by Noyers, and drew up before Sedan, between Frénois and Wadelincourt.
"My dear Nancy!" he returned, quite as much moved. And just then Mr. Bulson appeared beside them. "Well, Sherwood!" the fat man growled, "have you come to your senses yet?" Robert Sherwood's face flushed and he urged Nan away along the snowy platform. "I don't care to talk to you, Bulson," he said shortly. "Well, you will talk to me!" exclaimed the angry fat man.
"I tell you to come on!" complained Mr. Bulson, Senior. He was really a slave to the crippled boy's whims; but he disliked being near Nan Sherwood, or seeing Junior so friendly with her. "You can't know that girl, if the dog does," he snarled. "Why, yes I can, Pop," said the lame boy, with cheerful insistence. "And I want to hear about her being snowed up in a train with Buster."
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