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Updated: June 11, 2025
"My father's name was Carew," I went on, "and he had a right to it. Why he left England I cannot say, but his home was in Yorkshire and his parents were dead when he came to the Canadas." "Then I am mistaken," said Griffith Hawke. "There are Carews in Yorkshire," added the law clerk. "It is doubtless the same family. Did your father leave no papers?" "None," I replied.
She sewed, and she made elaborate rugs, and she had a decided talent for making carpets, if there were one to be made, which must have happened seldom. But there were a great many to be turned and made over in Deephaven, and she went to the Carews' and Lorimers' at house-cleaning time or in seasons of great festivity.
The four Carews of the White House had brooded to the full as much as the young folk of the Tile House over the estrangement between their Fathers, though they had never dared to ask their parents any questions about the matter. All the children knew this much, that old Grandpapa had been Doctor Mark Carew of Allonby Edge, and when he died his two sons succeeded to his practice as partners.
The Carews' pretty house, with its lawn and garden, was almost the last on River Street, and stood on the slope of a hill that commanded all Santa Paloma Valley. Below it, the wide tree-shaded street descended between other unfenced lawns and other handsome homes. This was the aristocratic part of the town.
He went to play whist with the Carews every Monday evening, and commonly went out fishing once a week. He had begun the practice of law, but he had lost his hearing, and at the same time his lady-love had inconsiderately fallen in love with somebody else; after which he retired from active business life. He had a fine library, which he invited us to examine.
He was the only baby allowed to come, and he had his own ticket. The Other Carews. By M. B. Manwell. "Don't you wish that the other Carews could come to our birthday party?" wistfully said Clary, the only girl among Doctor John Carew's "seven little pickles," as he called them.
Apostleman and nervous, timid Anne Pratt and her brother Walter, whose gloomy, stately old mansion was one of the finest in town. Up at the end of the street were the Carews, and the shabby comfortable home of Dr. and Mrs. Brown, and the neglected white cottage where Barry Valentine and his little son Billy and a studious young Japanese servant led a rather shiftless existence.
As this was not a great while after his becoming a member of the community of the gipseys, the duke had never heard that any of the noble family of the Carews was become one of those people; and was very glad to have it in his power to oblige any of that family; he therefore treated him with respect, and called a servant to conduct him into an inner room, where the duke’s barber waited on him to shave him.
Was descended of a very ancient and reputable family of the Carews in Devonshire, and was brother to Matthew Carews, a great royalist, in the time of the rebellion; he had his education in Corpus Christi College, but he appears not to have been matriculated as a member, or that he took a scholastic degree ; afterwards improving his parts by travelling, and conversation with ingenious men in the Metropolis, he acquired some reputation for his wit and poetry.
The days that immediately followed the going of the Carews were quiet, certainly, but they were not passed "with Jimmy." Jimmy rarely came near the house now, and when he did call, he was not the old Jimmy that she used to know. He was moody, restless, and silent, or else very gay and talkative in a nervous fashion that was most puzzling and annoying.
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