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Updated: September 25, 2025
"We won't be able to get any one to read the Burial Service over you." "Oh, I don't believe it will be as bad as that. The people won't know that I am a clergyman, and they will not think it worth while to bother a farm-hand. I shall be just plain John Handyman to them, and nothing more." "What put such a notion into your head, anyhow?" Garton enquired.
He was a pale, not over-strong looking chap, somewhere about Conniston's own age, his short-cropped yellow hair pushed straight back from a high forehead, his lips and eyes good-humored and at the same time touched vaguely with a tender wistfulness. Conniston imagined immediately that this was Garton, Bat Truxton's helper. "You're Mr. Garton?" he said, voicing his impression as he came forward.
Rannage could recover from his astonishment, the study door opened and closed, and Douglas Stanton was gone. "Hello! what's the rush?" Douglas Stanton stopped short, and a smile overspread his face as he turned it upon the beaming countenance of the man standing before him. "Oh, it's you, Garton, is it? I didn't see you." "You certainly didn't. Why, you were cutting a two-forty clip."
Look at animals, and Red Indians, limited to feeling their own occasional misfortunes; then look at ourselves never free from feeling the toothaches of others. Let's get back to feeling for nobody, and have a better time." "You'll never practise that." Garton pensively stirred the hotch-potch of his hair. "To attain full growth, one mustn't be squeamish. To starve oneself emotionally's a mistake.
"Oh, I shall drop in on you one of these days when you're least expecting me." "Are you going far away?" "Merely to Rixton." "Rixton!" Mr. Garton exclaimed. "Yes, why not? Some one must go there." "Do you know anything about the place?" "Very little. I have been told that it is a hard parish, and that the last rector was forced to leave." "I should say it is.
"It must be a wonderful collection," said a slight and slender girl named Garton, with blue eyes and red hair. She was a lady journalist attached to Mr. Brimley's paper. Twenty years ago she would have been called an advanced woman.
I do not want to make the same mistake at Rixton, and so I am going to spy out the land." "Oh, you'll make out all right," Garton replied, as he laid the butt of his cigar carefully on the ash-tray. "You'll have no trouble. Get on the good side of Stubbles, and he'll see you through. You can't afford to lose the support of such a man as that, who has so great an influence in Rixton.
Garton detected the note of bitterness in his companion's voice, and did not question him any further just then. When at length within the house, and taken possession of by the Garton "kids" two boys and a girl Douglas became entirely changed. There was a lively romp first of all, and it was with difficulty that Mrs.
Garton could induce the children to release their victim long enough to come to dinner. Then, at the table there was a contest as to who should sit next to the guest. It was a happy family into which Douglas had entered. This was the one home in the whole city where he could feel perfectly at his ease, for he knew that he was sincerely welcome. Ever since his coming to St.
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