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Updated: June 10, 2025
And her nurse, Densie, Densie Densmore. Where have I heard that name before? Say, mother, let's talk the matter over. Shall you let Alice come? Ten dollars a week, they'll pay. Let me see. Five hundred and twenty dollars a year. Whew! We are rich as Jews. Our ship is really coming in," and 'Lina rang the bell and ordered Lulu to bring "a lemonade with ice cut fine and a heap of sugar in it."
They stared at Stanley as though they were looking upon a ghost. Both men seemed somehow to have lost their confident bearing seemed to have shrunken into smaller, less assertive, meaner beings. "Sixty thousand pounds," Mr. Bundercombe went on "one-third of which belongs to Stanley here." "Absurd!" Harding faltered. "Nothing nothing of the sort!" Densmore declared. Mr.
Toys and school-books strewed the floor, a sewing-bag and apron lay across the sofa, and in one corner was a roll-topped desk of varnished oak. The seats of the chairs were comfortably depressed. So this was where Mr. Wood lived! Mr. Wood, instructor in Latin and Greek at Densmore Academy.
"I wasn't thinking of safety." "Think of it," advised the visitor; "for if you set your grooms on me, they could perhaps throw me out. But as sure as they did I'd kill you the next time we met." Densmore smiled. "You!" he said contemptuously. "Kill, eh? Did you ever kill any one?" "Yes." Under their jet brows Densmore's eyes took on a peculiar look of intensity. "A Ledger reporter," he murmured.
The convict smiled bitterly, and said to Hugh himself: "Your mother is right. She was once my wife, but the law set her free from the galling chain. Will some one call Densie Densmore in? I may need her testimony." No one volunteered to go for Densie Densmore, and he was about repeating his request, when Alice came tripping down the stairs, and pausing at the parlor door, looked in.
Before I was fully aware of it I had drawn very near to the first great junction-point of my life, my graduation from Densmore Academy. We were to "change cars," in the language of Principal Haime.
"Where are you playing?" "I've never really played. Just practiced." "Then you ought to be with us. Where's Densmore? We'll put you up and have you in by the next meeting." "A reporter in The Retreat!" protested Kirke who had proffered the bet. "Why not?" snapped old Poultney Masters. "Got any objections?"
And I graduated from Densmore Academy, the best school in our city, in the 80's, without having been taught even the rudiments of citizenship. Knowledge was presented to us as a corpse, which bit by bit we painfully dissected.
But it was his horsemanship which specially commended itself to the critical eye of the connoisseur. "Ridden range, haven't you?" inquired the poloist when the other came in. "Quite a bit of it, in my time." "Now, I'll tell you," said Densmore, employing his favorite formula. "There'll be practice later. It's an off day and we probably won't have two full teams.
"I'm a reporter from The Ledger," explained Banneker. "A reporter?" Mr. Densmore frowned. "Reporters aren't allowed here, except on match days. How did you get in?" "Nobody stopped me," answered the visitor in an expressionless tone. "It doesn't matter," said the other, "since you're here. What is it; the international challenge?"
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