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Updated: June 25, 2025
He was one of them; he loved them and they knew it." Douglas' eyes shone as he thus bore testimony to the worth of his old rector, and when he suddenly ceased he sat gazing straight before him as if he beheld a vision. "Is he living yet?" Garton asked. "No, he died years ago, when I was about seventeen." "He must have been a remarkable man."
"So you heard of it, then?" "Sure. Why, Dr. Rannage was furious when he came home, and at a recent session of the Board of Missions he expressed his opinion in no uncertain manner, so I understand." "And he is not over it yet," Mrs. Garton remarked. "I was talking to him for a while to-night, and he told me about his terrible experience up there.
Kit will be delighted to see you, and the kids will go about crazy. They will be more than surprised, for we were afraid that we had seen the last of you." "Well, I'll go, then," Douglas assented, and the two started off at a rapid pace. "So you have decided to leave?" Garton asked, after they had gone a short distance. "You've heard the news, then?" Douglas queried.
Garton asked, "and what you have been doing since you left the city?" "Tell her about your wrestling bout with Jake Jukes," Garton suggested, "and the widow and her news-bag of a son, and also about the old shoemaker and his wayward daughter. Yes, and about the old professor and his daughters." "You have given me a big contract," Douglas laughingly replied. "I know I have, but Kit must hear it."
The war had made the change. He had offered to go to the front as chaplain, and he had been accepted. His friend, Charles Garton, was raising a battalion and men were being called to the Colours. "How many will go from this parish?" he asked in conclusion.
Stubbles," the lawyer began, "and as my time is limited, I wish to discuss the matter with you at once." "Why, certainly," Stubbles returned. "We can be as private here as anywhere, sir. Your er companion can wait for you at the store." "No, I wish him to stay where he is," Garton replied. "Do you wish Squire Hawkins to remain, too?" Stubbles anxiously enquired. "That is for you to decide.
Stripped to their waists, almost naked many of them, black with dirt and running sweat, they strained and strove against the rising stream. The morning died, noon came, and Conniston had a dozen men distribute sandwiches and hot coffee. The afternoon wore on and brought with it the men whom Tommy Garton had sent.
Whereupon he, too, forgot Miss Jocelyn and Billy, and launched into further explanation. At six o'clock Billy Jordan covered his typewriter and put on his coat and hat. He came over to the table and leaned his elbow on it, waiting for Garton to finish something that he was saying.
I'll send the wagon due north. You can pick it up by the tracks." The man rode away, and Conniston strode to the office. "Tommy" and his voice was steady and determined "you'll have to get into a buggy and watch the work this afternoon. I've got the men started and now I am going to her." "All right, Greek," Garton answered, gently. "I can keep things going." Conniston turned and left him.
"You're a lucky brute, Garton, to have a home to go to, and a wife and such kids as yours." "I certainly am. But, say, Stanton, come and have dinner with us." "How can I? Your wife won't be expecting me, and I shall be intruding." "Look here, old man," and Garton laid his hand affectionately upon his companion's shoulder, "don't you know that you are always welcome at our house?
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