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He wanted to go over and crack a water-bottle over Dyckman's head. He did not do it, for the excellent reason that Zada L'Etoile was at his side. She had insisted on his taking her there "to lunch with the bunch," as she expressed it. She also saw Charity and Jim and Cheever's sudden flush of rage. She felt that the way was opening for her dreams to come true.
One set of Jim's muscles leaped to the attack; another set held them in restraint. "Be careful, dad!" he groaned. "Peter Cheever never met my wife." "Well, then, what were you fighting him about?" "That's my business." "Well, it's my business, too, when I find the name of my son posted for expulsion on the board of my pet club. You used to be sweet on Cheever's wife.
Here, too, John Brown, Sanborn, Morton, and Frederick Douglass met to talk over that fatal movement on Harper's Ferry. On the question of temperance, also, the people were in a ferment. Dr. Cheever's pamphlet, "Deacon Giles' Distillery," was scattered far and wide, and, as he was sued for libel, the question was discussed in the courts as well as at every fireside.
But, alas! while, we have been thinking of other matters, Master Cheever's watchful eye has caught two boys at play. Now we shall see awful times. The two malefactors are summoned before the master's chair, wherein he sits with the terror of a judge upon his brow. Our old chair is now a judgment-seat. Ah, Master Cheever has taken down that terrible birch rod!
I'll think it over for a few months. It's bad weather for divorces now, anyway." Cheever's heart churned in his breast. He knew that Zada could not afford to wait. He should have married her long ago, and there was no time to spare now. Charity's indifference frightened him. He did not dream that through the dictagraph Charity had shared with him Zada's annunciation of her approaching motherhood.
One of Cheever's worst embarrassments was the matter of Zada. His battered head suffered tortures before it contrived a proper lie for her. Then he called Zada up from his house and explained that as he was leaving his club to fly to her, his car had skidded into another, with the result that he had been knocked senseless and cut up with flying glass; otherwise he was in perfect shape.
Here, I know, the abolitionist insists that the master is guilty of this complicity, unless he will at once emancipate the slave; because, so long as he holds him, he thereby, personally and voluntarily, assumes the same relation which the original kidnapper or buyer held to the African. This is Dr. Cheever's argument in a recent popular sermon.
And here grandfather endeavored to give his auditors an idea how matters were managed in schools above a hundred years ago. As this will probably be an interesting subject to our readers, we shall make a separate sketch of it, and call it The Old-Fashioned School. Now, imagine yourselves, my children, in Master Ezekiel Cheever's school-room.
The wind made the body sway to and fro, and the grating of the chains caused the noise. The sight made cold shivers go up my back, and I hurried on till I reached Cheever's store near the Boston ferry and bought the gloves and scarves. On the next day little Benoni was buried. Days on which there were funerals were half-holidays, that every one might attend.
He sat down glum and scarlet, and Charity's heart began to throb. A second glance told her who Zada was. She had seen the woman often when Zada had danced in the theaters and the hotel ballrooms. Charity found herself thinking that she was not Cheever's wife, but only a poor relation by marriage. The worst of it was that she was not dressed for the theater.
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