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Updated: May 18, 2025
"What a dear darling duck of a baby! Oh, I should so like to adopt it! Do you think its mother would mind?" "She'd mind very much indeed," said Anthea shortly. "Oh, but I should bring it up in luxury, you know. I am Lady Chittenden. You must have seen my photograph in the illustrated papers. They call me a Beauty, you know, but of course that's all nonsense. Anyway"
A colonel in command was diffident about ordering the superior about, but he was averse to letting the "dare" bring on a fatality, as the sharpshooters had an easy butt in the Lincoln exceptional figure. So he took the advice of Mr. Registrar Chittenden, on the staff, and bade the President retire, or he would move him by a file of men.
If any man wishes to deny these things, let him stand forth." But there was neither sound nor movement from the men. Bennington continued. "Men, you have no grievance. This man Chittenden, the alleged cause of your striking, takes no food or pay from your mouths or your pockets; he interferes with you in no manner whatever.
They have been trying to force him to join the union, but he has refused, having had too many examples of unionism in his own country to risk his independence here. Well, I received a letter from the general manager this morning. Either Chittenden must join or go; otherwise the men will go out September first." "What shall you do?" "I shall keep Chittenden.
"Then out he goes," said Morrissy, recovering his truculence. "On what authority?" Bennington's voice was growing milder and milder. "On what authority?" he repeated. "On mine!" cried Morrissy. "You are mistaken. I am master here. Mr. Chittenden will remain on the pay-roll." "Then in ten minutes the men will walk out on my orders. You're making a big mistake, Mr. Bennington."
And she beckoned to Cyril, and when he went up to the carriage she said: 'What a dear darling duck of a baby! Oh, I SHOULD so like to adopt it! Do you think its mother would mind? 'She'd mind very much indeed, said Anthea shortly. 'Oh, but I should bring it up in luxury, you know. I am Lady Chittenden. You must have seen my photograph in the illustrated papers.
But I must return to Chittenden. Several letters from Oregon had been forwarded. I felt that I must answer this call, God willing. I decided to help there, at least temporarily. Accordingly, one morning, bright and early, I started. As I boarded the train, Mr. and Mrs. Chittenden handed me a letter, the reading of which brought tears of love and appreciation.
"I came here," Harold Mainwaring replied, "with the express purpose of meeting one or the other, or both; on the whole, it will be rather better to meet Mr. Whitney." "No trouble, no unpleasant words, I hope?" said the elder man, anxiously. "Mr. Chittenden, when you knew me as Hugh Mainwaring's private secretary, you knew me as a gentleman; I trust I shall never be less."
"Morrissy." "Mr. Morrissy. Mr. Chittenden, are you willing to join the union?" Bennington smiled as he plied this question. "Not I! My word, I'd as lief starve as become a union man, and under such a master. I prize my manhood and independence above all things. I have already refused to join. I never take back what I say." "Neither do I, Mr. Chittenden." Bennington stood up.
Separated from the rest by a sort of enclosure composed of tables strung across one end of the apartment, which was a large upper room of an inn, hastily fitted up for the occasion, conspicuously sat the president of the council, the venerable Thomas Chittenden, the wise, the prudent, and the good, who was to Vermont what Washington was to the Union; and who, though not possessing dazzling greatness, had yet that rare combination of moral and intellectual qualities which was more fortunate for him good sense, great discretion, firmness, honesty of purpose, benevolence, and unvarying equanimity of temper, united with a modest and pleasing address.
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