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Updated: June 8, 2025
Still, it was evident to the most disinterested eye that there were plenty of funds behind the Emery's ample, comfortable mode of life, and on this point his eyes were keen, for all their delicacy. As the young people paused at the door, Judge Emery took a note-book out of his pocket and elaborately made a note. "Fifty-five minutes in eight days, Lydia," he called.
It was Emery's turn to do the greater part of the camp work that night, while I was content to hug the fire, wrapped in blankets, waiting for the coffee to boil.
She looked solemnly into her godfather's eyes, and, as though she were taking a great and resolute oath, she said, "But it is not too late for Ariadne." As the spring advanced and Judge Emery's widow recovered a little strength, it became apparent that life in Endbury, with its heartbreaking associations, would be intolerable to her.
Emery's maternal vanity flared up hotly. Mrs. Mortimer laughed again and began taking the layers of crumpled wax-paper out of the box. "Oh, that was the trouble with you, was it? That's nothing. He had to be away to see about a new electrical plant in Dayton. Did you ever know Paul Hollister to let anything interfere with business?"
Then we sat down in the little hotel at Green River City as others had done before, to write last messages to those who were nearest and dearest to us. A telegram to our parents in an Eastern city; and another to Emery's wife and little girl, at Bright Angel, more than eight hundred miles down this self-same river these, somehow, took longer to write than the letters themselves.
Therefore he ascended to Hillport and wandered as far as Oldcastle, all in a silk hat and a frock-coat. It was precisely half-past four as he turned, unassumingly, from Brick Street into Brick Passage, and so approached the side door of Annie Emery's.
He held in one hand a large platter piled high with wafer-like sandwiches, which he was consuming at a Gargantuan rate, and as he ate he smiled to himself. "Well, Mr. Ogre," said the doctor, sitting down beside him with a gasp of relief; "let a wave-worn mariner into your den, will you?" Provided with an auditor, Judge Emery's smile broke into an open laugh.
Emery's cheeks, "I don't know my little Lydia any more," she said weakly, dropping her head back on the pillow. "I don't know myself!" cried Lydia, sobbing violently, "I'm so unhappy!" Mrs. Emery took her in her arms with a forgiveness which dropped like a noose over Lydia's neck, "There, there, darling! Mother knows you didn't mean it!
This is the worry of the squirrel cage. Lydia is Mrs. Emery's baby girl, her pet, her passionate delight. She has been away to a fine school. She knows nothing of the ancient struggles to attain position and a high place in society. Those struggles were practically over before she appeared on the scene.
Emery's life might have found something pathetic in her pleasure at Lydia's light-hearted jesting at the funny old things people used to think pretty and the absurd pursuits they used to think entertaining.
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