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Updated: June 8, 2025
The drama I wrote for Father Nugent had a temperance moral. It was called "The Germans of Glenmore." It was played several Monday nights in succession, and was well received. Some years afterwards I made it into a story, calling it "The Reapers of Kilbride." This appeared over a frequent signature of mine, "Slieve Donard," in the "United Irishman," the organ of the Home Rule Confederation.
He knew his man only through their correspondence, induced by Beth's brother, Glenmore Kent. Inquiring at the bank, he was briefly directed to the largest saloon of the place. When he entered the bar he found it swarming full of men, miners, promoters, teamsters, capitalists, gamblers, lawyers, and the Lord alone knew what. The air was a reek of smoke and fumes of liquor.
Glenmore was unaware of the fact that his sister had come to the West. Bostwick overlooked no details of importance. Armed with this plausible missive, he went at once to Mrs. Dick's and found that Beth was at home. Goldite to the Eastern girl, who had found herself practically abandoned for nearly a week, had proved to be a mixture of discomforts, excitements, and disturbing elements.
"She might have seen her, for she left Glenmore before we did," Dorothy said, and she was just in the midst of telling how Patricia had brought the big cat home, and next had appeared with a little dog, when Mollie said: "Here she comes now. Why, she has a dog with her!" "That's the one," said Nancy, "and she has him on a leash now, just as she did at Glenmore. I wonder if her aunt likes him.
It happened, however, that at the far end of the building, another girl was quite as worried as Vera, but it was a very different matter that had caused her to wake, as Vera had, before daybreak. She had entered Glenmore a few weeks after school had opened, and was rather a quiet girl, as yet acquainted with but few of the pupils.
"I was going to ask you if you knew that Patricia and Arabella were spending the week at Glenmore." "I knew it, because when I told Patricia that we were to spend the week at Vera's home, she looked, for just a second, as if she were provoked because she had not been invited, too. Then she hurried to say that she'd rather stay at Glenmore.
That's the comin' town, it seems to me; good crops over there in the valley, no cattle starvin'. They may bend the railroad around to touch that town, too they're talkin' of it. That's sure to happen if Glenmore wins the county seat this fall. Then you'll see skids put under every house in this town and moved over there.
Marvin should say that she must not remain at Glenmore, when she would throw pride to the winds, and plead, yes, even beg to continue as a pupil of the school. She turned and looked at Elf, still soundly sleeping. "O dear! I'm the only girl in school who has anything to fret over," she whispered.
Bostwick had waited half an hour in the utmost impatience. With a hundred things to increase his restlessness of mind and body, he had finally gone to the postoffice and there discovered a letter from Glenmore Kent. It was short, and now no longer fresh.
I'm told he couldn't have used so much as thirty thousand dollars in anything legitimate, so far, on the 'Laughing Water' claim. If he'd forge a letter from you, and lie like this and deceive me so, what wouldn't he do to rob these men of their mine?" "I scent decay," said Glenmore gravely. "Have you got any plans in your attic?" "Why, I don't know what to do, of course!" she admitted.
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