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"My name is Butterworth," she responded mechanically. "I know'd it," he replied. "I axed the boys." "Good-bye," he said. "Here's the store, and I must shoulder my sack and be off. I don't see women much, but I'm fond of 'em, and they're pretty apt to like me." "Good-bye," said the woman.
To both men the right kind of marriage meant success in life for a woman. Nothing else really mattered much if that were accomplished. He thought of Tom Butterworth, who, he told himself, had fussed with Clara just as Bud Doble often fussed with a horse in a race. He had himself been like Pop Geers. All along he had known and understood the mare colt, Clara.
"I am interested in the girl you have befriended, and for very different reasons from those you suppose. I fear I have great reason to fear that she is not just the person you would like to harbor under your roof." "Indeed! Why, what do you know about her? Anything bad, Miss Butterworth?"
The sunlight dripped over the house like golden paint over an art jar, and the freckling shadows here and there only intensified the rigor of the bath of light. The Butterworth and Larkin houses flanking were entrenched behind great stodgy trees; only the Happer house took the full sun, and all day long faced the dusty road-street with a tolerant kindly patience.
Then he consulted his watch, and finding that it was within an hour of nine o'clock, took up his stand behind the curtains of the parlor window. Soon, for the person expected was as prompt as himself, he saw a carriage stop and a lady alight, and he hastened to the front door to receive her. It was Miss Butterworth. "Madam, your punctuality is equal to my own," said he.
He made me stop though my foot had crossed the threshold; not by word or look but simply by his fatherly manner. "Miss Butterworth," he observed, "the suspicions which you have entertained from the first have within the last few days assumed a definite form. In what direction do they point? tell me." Some men and most women would have yielded to that imperative tell me!
We must trace the young couple who were present at his death struggle. If they cannot be found the case is hopeless." "And so," said she, "we come around to the point from which we started proof positive that we are lost in the woods." And Miss Butterworth rose. She felt that for the time being she, at least, had come to the end of her resources. Mr. Gryce did not seek to detain her.
Tom Butterworth could, if he could find time to give it, help him in the actual organization of the larger company. He did not propose to do anything in a small way. Much stock would have to be sold to farmers, as well as to townspeople, and he could see no reason why a certain commission for the selling of stock should not be paid.
Belcher that I am busy, and that she must choke her off. I can't see her to-night. I can't see her." The girl retired, and soon afterward Mrs. Belcher came, and reported that she could do nothing with Miss Butterworth that Miss Butterworth was determined to see him before she left the house. "Bring her in; I'll make short work with her." As soon as Mrs.
Fanny Twist the milliner lived in a little frame house in Garfield Street, far out at the eastern edge of town, and he went there. He banged boldly on the door and the woman appeared. "I've got to see Tom Butterworth," he said. "It's important. It's about his daughter. Something has happened to her." The door closed and presently Tom came around the corner of the house. He was furious.
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