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Updated: May 27, 2025
Forty dollars for expenses was put into Cass's hands, and the entire community accompanied him to the cross roads where he was to meet the Sacramento coach, which eventually carried him away, followed by a benediction of waving hats and exploding revolvers.
Cass's heart sank again as he was confronted by a dark, iron-gray man in dress, features, speech, and action uncompromisingly opposed to Cass his ring and his romance. When the young man had told his story and produced his treasure he paused. The banker scarcely glanced at it, but said, impatiently: "Well, your papers?" "My papers?" "Yes. Proof of your identity. You say your name is Cass Beard.
"And what did he say?" said Silas, still in the same subdued way, as if he were anxious lest he should fall into the slightest tone that was not for Eppie's good. "He said he should like to be married, because he was a-going in four-and-twenty, and had got a deal of gardening work, now Mr. Mott's given up; and he goes twice a-week regular to Mr. Cass's, and once to Mr.
And then, before he knew what had happened, the small runabout was skilfully backed out of its narrow space and a red tail-light was rapidly wagging down the avenue, leaving him standing dazed on the curbstone. "Where in the devil have you been?" demanded a cross voice behind him, and turning he encountered Cass's snub-nose and irate eyes. Quin's own eyes were shining and his face was flushed.
"Much Cass knows about it!" said Cass's cousin, pulling on her long gloves. Then she dismissed the subject abruptly: "Rose, if I tell you something will you swear not to tell?" "Never breathe it." "Captain Phipps is coming up to Baltimore for the Easter vacation." "Does your grandmother know?" "I should say not.
I'll give warning at Red Chief's Crossing, and send the coroner down here." "Let me go with you," she said, earnestly; "it would be such fun. I don't mind being a witness. Or," she added, without heeding Cass's look of astonishment, "I'll wait here till you come back." "But you see, Miss, it wouldn't seem right" began Cass. "But I found him first," interrupted the girl, with a pout.
"It was just here," she went on vivaciously, "just here that I went into the bush and cut a switch for my mare, and," leading him along at a brisk trot by her side, "just here, look, see! this is what I found." It was scarcely thirty feet from the road. The only object that met Cass's eye was a man's stiff, tall hat, lying emptily and vacantly in the grass. It was new, shiny, and of modish shape.
Through the open door of the closet could be seen Rose's personal belongings; under the table were a pair of high-heeled slippers; and two white stockings made white streaks across the window-sill. Quin sat by Cass's bedside, with his hand clasped to Rose's cheek, and fought a battle that had been raging within him for days.
Lyman Cass, the hook-nosed consort of the owner of the flour-mill. Mrs. Cass's parlor belonged to the crammed-Victorian school, as Mrs. Luke Dawson's belonged to the bare-Victorian. It was furnished on two principles: First, everything must resemble something else.
She was made comfortable in the old woman's one spare room, and she set herself the task of fortitude and endurance. To her surprise, many of Mrs. Cass's neighbors came unobtrusively to the back door of the little cottage and made sympathetic inquiries. They appeared a subdued and apprehensive group, and whispered to one another as they left.
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