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Updated: June 10, 2025
Walmsley has just been returned for the western division of Bedfordshire." They greeted me with more than affability. Mr. Harding assured me he had read my speeches. Mr. Densmore thought no one was more to be envied than a man who had the gifts that secured for him a seat in Parliament. "It's early yet," Mr. Bundercombe declared genially. "Let's sit down. Tell me a little about English business.
The guardian, always on duty there, passed him with a civil word, and a sober-liveried flunkey at the clubhouse door, after a swift, unobtrusive consideration of his clothes and bearing, took him readily for granted, and said that Mr. Densmore would be just about going on the polo field for practice. Did the gentleman know his way to the field?
"It is a rotten business, for sure!" said Densmore sympathetically. "Couldn't you get on night work, so you could play afternoons?" "Play polo?" Banneker laughed. "My means would hardly support one pony." "That'll be all right," returned the other nonchalantly. "There are always fellows glad to lend a mount to a good player. And you're going to be that."
And then, without more ado, I opened the gate and was gone.... That night, though I did not realize it, my journey into a Far Country was begun. The misery that followed this incident had one compensating factor. Although too late to electrify Densmore and Principal Haime with my scholarship, I was determined to go to college now, somehow, sometime.
"It is not an easy task to confess how bad one has been," the stranger said, "and once no power could have tempted me to do it; but several years of prison life have taught me some wholesome lessons, and I am not the same man I was when, Densie Densmore" and his glance turned toward her "when I met you, and won your love. Against you first I sinned.
At the nicely prepared dinner served soon after her arrival, a cloud lowered on 'Lina's brow, induced by the fact that Densie Densmore was permitted a seat at the table, a proceeding sadly at variance with 'Lina's lately acquired ideas of aristocracy. Accordingly that very day she sought an opportunity to speak with her mother when she knew that Densie was in an adjoining room.
"I'm trying to get the news," said Banneker doggedly striving to hold to an ideal which momentarily grew more sordid and tawdry. "And I wonder if you realize how you ought to be answered." Yes; Banneker realized, with a sick realization. But he was not going to admit it. He kept silence. "If this polo mallet were a whip, now," observed Mr. Densmore meditatively. "A dog-whip, for preference."
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.
"Leave it to Maitland," said somebody. "I'll leave it to Archie Densmore if you like," offered the bettor belligerently. "Leave it to Mr. Masters," suggested Kirke. "Why not leave it to the horse?" The suggestion, coming in a level and unconcerned tone from the depths of the chair in which Banneker was seated, produced an electrical effect.
A casual observer would have said that Densie Densmore had heard less of that strange story than any one else, but her hearing faculties had been sharpened, and not a word was missed by her not a link lost in the entire narrative, and when the narrator expressed his love for his daughter, she darted upon him again, shrieking wildly: "And that child whom you loved was the baby you stole, and I shall see her again shall hear that blessed name of mother from her own sweet lips."
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