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Then the doctors quitted the room and commenced their consultation. Nadine Holt looked after them with a strange smile on her face, her black eyes glittering. "Well," said Doctor Crandall, "I wonder if we both have the same opinion in regard to this case." "It can admit of but one," returned Doctor Schimpf, with a shake of his head. "And that is?" "It is a case of slow poisoning," was the answer.
Crandall swung himself into the saddle, brought his heels savagely into the horse's sides, and clattered over the road. Gordon Makimmon's annoyance quickly evaporated; he thought with a measure of amusement of the impetuous young man who was not content to grow a crop of fodder. If the men of Greenstream all resembled Edgar Crandall, he realized, the Cannons would have an uneasy time.
"Same old bed same old mattress, I believe," said Crandall, yawning. "Same old everything. Oh, but I'm lame! I'd no notion you chaps could play like this." He caressed a battered shin. "You've given us all something to remember you by."
You white-livered" He did not finish, for the arm of the blond giant shot out against his face like a beetle, and down he rolled on the grass. The sound of the blow made Johnny give an involuntary, quick cry. "No human bein' could have stood up agin that blow," Crandall said afterwards. "It was like a mule a-kickin'."
John Crandall saw the spirits fade away. He rubbed his eyes and said to himself: "By George! I have been asleep. What a remarkably vivid dream that was." As he yawned and stretched his arms above his head, the impatient rattle at the door told him that at least was not a part of the dream. He arose and unlocked the door. "Hello, Mr. Bullion," he said, as that solid man came in.
"Well, the war's on," he announced. "The I.F.A.W.'s walking out on the whole plant, at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow." "In violation of the Federal Labor Act, Section Eight, paragraphs four and five," Melroy supplemented. "Crandall really has stuck his neck in the guillotine. What's Washington doing?"
Did the pious gossip tell you any pleasant personal news?" "She has heard talk that the Micks are sore and that Doc Crandall has had an attack of virtue." "You needn't lose sleep over the handful of Irish in our camp; they know who butters their parsnips. And I'll take care of the doctor. He's an innocuous mugwump. She didn't mention Volney Sprague?"
Above him as he lay in his bed was a portrait which I had formerly seen in his parlor. Thereby hung a curious tale. Years before, at the very beginning of Mr. May's career, he had been a teacher in the town of Canterbury, Connecticut, when Miss Prudence Crandall was persecuted, arrested, and imprisoned for teaching colored children. Mr. May had taken up her case earnestly, and, with the aid of Mr.
And for that reason, I won't run the risk of having them working on this job." "That's just your word against theirs," Crandall insisted obstinately. "Their complaint is that you framed this whole thing up to get rid of them." "Why, I didn't even know who either of them were, until yesterday morning." "That's not the way they tell it," Crandall retorted.
Prudence Crandall was commended for her stand in behalf of the race, and July 4 was set apart as a day for prayer and addresses on the condition of the Negro throughout the country. By this time we hear much of societies for temperance and moral reform, especially of the so-called Phoenix Societies "for improvement in general culture literature, mechanic arts, and morals."
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