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Updated: June 25, 2025
The sudden silence and then the long groan which racked the bleachers was greater tribute to Crane's play than any applause. Billie Sheldon then faced Steele. The fans roared hoarsely, for Billie had hit safely three times out of four. Steele used his curve ball, but he could not get the batter to go after it.
Jacob Cluyme sniffed a little as he was ushered into Miss Crane's best parlor, it was perhaps because of she stuffy dampness of that room. Mr. Cluyme was one of those persons the effusiveness of whose greeting does not tally with the limpness of their grasp.
he sang lustily, out of his sheer joy in being alive, and was surprised to hear Dorothy's clear soprano, Margaret's pleasing contralto, and Crane's mellow tenor chime in from the adjoining room. Crane threw open the door and Seaton joined the others. "Good morning. Dick, you sound happy," said Crane. "Who wouldn't be? Look what's doing today," as he ardently embraced his bride-to-be.
It was fairy-time for June that summer, though her father and Bud had gone West, for her step-mother was living with a sister, the cabin in Lonesome Cove was closed and June stayed at the Gap, not at the Widow Crane's boarding-house, but with one of Hale's married friends on Poplar Hill.
"In the eyes of your misguided profession, statesmen and authors and emigrants and other public charges have no Rights of Privacy," said she. "Mr. Longfellow told me once that they were to name a brand of flour for him, and that he had no redress." "Have you, too, been up before Miss Crane's Commission?" he asked, with amused interest. His mother laughed. "Yes," she said quietly.
Silently their minds reached out to each other in mutual understanding. Unconsciously Margaret half shuddered and moved closer to her companion, the movement attracting his attention but not her own. A tender expression came into Crane's steady blue eyes as he looked down at the beautiful young woman by his side. For beautiful she undoubtedly was.
The Japanese cruiser Yakumo, approaching from the North, had been painted white like the American cruisers, and this is why she had been taken, as the reader will remember, for the armored cruiser New York, which was actually lying off San Francisco assigned to Admiral Crane's yellow fleet.
He went to see him at once. "Mr. Kimball," he said, "I want to know if I can engage you to do some plowing for me." "For you!" repeated the farmer, opening his eyes. "Why, you haven't taken a farm, have you?" "Not yet," said Herbert, smiling; "but I've agreed to cultivate a little land on shares." "Sho! you don't say so! What land is it?" "It's the field behind Mr. Crane's house."
Now he fronted the wondering voyageurs, one foot raised against the bow of the brigade canoe; now he stood straight and tall against the light of the sitting-room door; now he emptied the vials of his wrath and contempt on Archibald Crane's reverend head; now he passed in the darkness, singing gayly the chanson de canôt.
Soon Shiro and the two guards, hearing the roar of an approaching airplane, looked out and saw what they supposed to be Crane's biplane coming down with terrific speed in an almost vertical nose-dive, as though the driver were in an extremity of haste. Flattening out just in time to avert destruction it taxied up the field almost to the house.
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