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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Goodby," said Rebecca, swallowing lumps of disappointment and chagrin as she saw the whole inspiring plan break and vanish into thin air like an iridescent bubble. "It's all over and we won't ever try it again. I'm going in to do overcasting as hard as I can, because I hate that the worst. Aunt Jane must write to Mrs. Burch that we don't want to be home missionaries.
Burch talked beautifully about the Syrian heathen, and the singing went real well, and there looked to be about forty cents in the basket that was passed on our side. And that wouldn't save even a heathen baby, would it? Then Mr. Burch said, if any sister would offer entertainment, they would pass the night, and have a parlor meeting in Riverboro to-morrow, with Mrs.
It seemed bold and wicked for me to pray before all those old church members and make believe I was better than I really was; but then again, wouldn't God think I was wicked not to be willing to pray when a minister asked me to?" The candle light fell on Rebecca's flushed, sensitive face. Mrs. Burch bent and kissed her good-night. "Don't be troubled," she said. "I'll tell Mr.
Rebecca wondered why she always ended, at the most peaceful seasons, with the form, "Do Thou be with us, God of Battles, while we strive onward like Christian soldiers marching as to war;" but everything sounded real to her to-day, she was in a devout mood, and many things Mr. Burch had said had moved her strangely.
By these signs, or the effect of them, Carley vaguely realized that she was incalculably changing, that this Carley Burch had become a vastly bigger person in the sight of her friends, and strangely in her own a lesser creature. If spring came at all to Oak Creek Canyon it warmed into summer before Carley had time to languish with the fever characteristic of early June in the East.
"In case of my sudden death I wish my executor to give twenty-five thousand dollars to my very dear friend Sadie Burch, of Hoboken, N.J. For a brief very brief moment, a mist gathered over the letter in the son's hand. "My dear friend Sadie Burch!" He choked back the exclamation of surprise that rose unconsciously to his lips and endeavored to suppress any facial evidence of his inner feelings.
In the shadow of the awning in a comfortable rocking chair sat a white-haired, kindly-faced woman, knitting a baby jacket. She looked up at him with a friendly smile. "I'm Miss Burch," she said. "I suppose you're that lawyer I wrote to? Won't you come up and sit down?" "Thanks," he replied, drawing nearer with an answering smile.
"I can only stay a few moments and I've been sitting in the motor most of the day. I might as well come to the point at once. You have doubtless heard of the death of Mr. Payson Clifford, Senior?" Miss Burch laid down the baby-jacket and her lips quivered. Then the tears welled in her faded blue eyes and she fumbled hastily in her bosom for her handkerchief.
It would have been bad enough to have had to consider the propriety of paying over a large sum to a lady calling herself by an elegant or at least debonair name like Claire Desmond or Lillian Lamar, but Sadie! And Burch! Ye gods! It was ignoble, sordid. That was a fine discovery to make about one's father!
In various forms of public service as well as in the business world Michigan's graduates occupy prominent places: William C. Braisted, '83, is Surgeon-General of the Navy, Laurence Maxwell, '74, succeeded Charles H. Aldrich, '75, as Solicitor-General of the State Department in 1893, Major-General John Biddle, who left the University for West Point in 1877, served as chief of staff, and later head of the American forces in England during the world war, Charles S. Burch, '75, is now Bishop of the New York Diocese, Dean C. Worcester, '89, was Secretary of the Interior on the Philippine Commission, Charles B. Warren, '91, has been counsel for this country before the Hague Tribunal, Royal S. Copeland, '84h, is Health Commissioner for New York City, and Earl D. Babst, '93, is President of the American Sugar Refining Company.
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