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Updated: May 28, 2025
I remember being in a crowded car with him in our engaged days. He was sitting next to a woman with a baby who was most unhappy over the ways of the world. Carl asked if he could not hold the squaller. The mother looked a bit doubtful, but relinquished her child. Within two minutes the babe was content on Carl's knees, clutching one of his fingers in a fat fist and sucking his watch.
"Won't need to cost you much, not if you don't give him any encouragement to expect much. Carl's that kind, good fellow enough, but he wants the big end. I know him, you bet! And, say! Don't let on to Carl that I steered you out there. Just claim like you was scouting around, and seen the Lazy A ranch, and took a notion to it; not too much of a notion, though, or it's liable to come kinda high.
As for you girls, you've got to go without jam at supper for a week." Faith and Una looked rather blank. They were inclined to think that even Carl's comparatively short though sharp agony was lighter punishment than this long drawn-out ordeal. A whole week of soggy bread without the saving grace of jam! But no shirking was permitted in the club.
Inside of two weeks one of the things which Carl Ericson had always known was that the harmonious candle-light brought them close together at dinner. The teaching, in this Period of Adjustments, was not all on Ruth's part. It was due to Carl's insistence that she tried to discover what her theological beliefs really were.
He was an incarnate desire to say exactly what he thought to the round, woolly President Wood. Plain Albert Smith was leaving the waiting-room. He seized Carl's hand with his plowman's paw, and, "Good-by, boy," he growled.
She was uncomfortably aware of a subtle undercurrent. "And I've another unexpected guest," she added to Diane. "Carl's here. Wandering in from Heaven knows where, as he always does. He's making his peace with your aunt "
"But he doesn't love me. . . . And yet he is mine Carl's and mine." Then anger flared up again: "Who told you? Oh, it was Miss Lydia, and she promised she wouldn't! How wicked in her!" "No one told me." There was a moment's silence, then Doctor Lavendar said, "There were people in Old Chester who thought he was Miss Lydia's." "Fools! fools!" she said, passionately.
"Do you happen to remember if any other letter like this was received at the office?" Here he displayed the envelope of Carl's letter. "Yes; one was received, addressed to the name of the one who deposited the first letters Leonard Craig." "Thank you, Mr. Sweetland. Your information has cleared up a mystery. Be kind enough not to mention the matter." "I will bear your request in mind." Mr.
The creak of rockers filled the unventilated, oilcloth-floored sitting-room. The sound was as unchanging as the sacred positions of the crayon enlargement of Mrs. Ericson's father, the green-glass top-hat for matches, or the violent ingrain rug with its dog's-head pattern. Carl's own room contained only plaster walls, a narrow wooden bed, a bureau, a kitchen chair.
"Yes, for Carl's pardon," and now Nanna related every circumstance connected with the theft of the game, in nearly the same words in which she had heard it from Carl.
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