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Updated: June 20, 2025
I came from the East, or my people did, but I was ranch-raised, and loved the hills and woods and places where you don't talk much, so I went to prospecting because it took me out where the sun was bright and I could see the wild things at play. I was one of the first men into a camp named Chandon helped to build it, in fact, and got hold of some ground that looked real good.
"That depends." Tilda was not to be taken off her guard. "I want you to read what it says." "Yes, to be sure I forgot what you said about havin' no schoolin'. Well, it says: 'Arthur Miles, surname Chandon, b. Kingsand, May 1st, 1888. Rev. Dr.
"You see," she added with a fine air of mystery, "there's others mixed up in this." Mrs. Damper sighed. "Well, I mustn' detain you . . . This Arthur Miles Chandon he's not a friend of yours by any chance?" "He's a sort of connection," said Tilda. "You know 'im, p'r'aps?" "Dear me, no!" "Oh," the child, without intending it, achieved a fine irony "I thought you seemed interested.
He came to Meriton to get the father's foreign address, and when the butler refused it, he called on me." "I see." Mr. Hucks nodded. "And you refused it too?" "I did better. I gave it to him " "Eh?" " at the same time taking care that the father his name is Chandon, by the way, and he's a baronet should get a wire from me to come home by the first train he can catch.
It's for Miles Chandon, if you know 'im." "Surely," the old man answered slowly. "Yes, surely Sir Miles. But who can have a message for Sir Miles?" "For Miss Sally, then. You know Miss Sally?" The old man's look changed in a moment. "Miss Sally? Why o' course Do we know Miss Sally?" he was appealing to the crew of men and maidens forward, and they broke into a chime of laughter.
By 'our time of life' I don't mean, of course, that we're of an age, you and I, but that we've fixed our fate, formed our habits, made our beds and must lie in 'em as comfortably as we can manage. . . . I was a girl when Miles Chandon came to grief; you were a grown man had been away for years, if I recollect, on some missionary expedition." "In north-east China."
Butts, who knew her habits to a hair, brought the spectacles once a week and laid the book open at his favourite passages. For aught it mattered, he might have opened it upside-down. "You're pretty punctual," said Miss Sally. "Before your time, if anything." "Yes; the horse bolted, or tried to," Mr. Chichester explained. "Guess whom I've brought with me." "Not Miles Chandon?"
Nuisance there's no telegraphing in the country on Sundays. I thought of getting a porter to dispatch it for me at Taunton; but it wouldn't reach Monte Carlo until some unearthly hour, and we've plenty of time. Miles Chandon will get it to-morrow, probably just as Glasson is beginning to get on terms with the Channel crossing.
From all sides the friends of my past life gathered together in Paris to be present at the apotheosis of the first performance. Among these were Otto Wesendonck, Ferdinand Prager, the unfortunate Kietz, for whom I had to pay the costs of his journey and of his stay in Paris; luckily M. Chandon from Epernay came, too, with a hamper of 'Fleur du Jardin, the finest of all his champagne brands.
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