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Updated: June 8, 2025
On the same side of the street, only a door below them, was an unrented cottage. One of the windows of this cottage, upstairs, was open, though closed blinds concealed the fact. Between these blinds peered two young men. That cottage was the property of Mr. Dodge, vice-president of one of Gridley's banks.
Gridley's advice that she went, and by his pecuniary assistance. What could I do? She was bent on going, and I was afraid she would have fits, or do something dreadful, if I did not let her have her way. I am afraid she will come back to us spoiled. She has seemed so fond of dress lately, and once she spoke of learning yes, Mr. Bradshaw, of learning to dance! I wept when I heard of it.
Yet the movements of Gridley's right wing puzzled the visitors. For all of Dave's right flankers dashed forward, making an effective interference. Surely, reasoned Captain Forsythe, Tom Reade didn't mean to try to break through by himself with the pigskin. That much was a correct guess. Tom didn't intend anything of the sort.
We may quit, but we won't slug. We won't sully Gridley's good name for honest play. And we won't quit, either, until Mr. Morton orders us from the field." "You have it right, Prescott," nodded the coach. "And I shan't interfere, either, unless things get a good deal worse than they have been.
"Um -I can't say about that." "If he can't, Mr. Prescott, that'll be one of Gridley's chances gone over the fence." Dave was on hand as early as he could be. Dick had already been told of the attempt on his chum the night before. "You didn't see the fellow well enough to make out who he was?" Prescott pressed eagerly. "No," admitted Dave, sadly.
Captain Halsey, of the college team, saw instantly that it looked like a long pass and a sprint around Gridley's left end. A football general must change front swiftly. At the signal, Cobber disposed itself to bunch against the High School left. The whistle blew. Winters got the ball, and made the movements for a kick. Cobber men, in the air on the jump, halted somewhat uncertainly, some of them.
"Don't forget to remind me that I'm to tell you Gridley's story, Howard," said the president, rising out of the depths of his lounging-chair and stripping off the dust-coat, "Reads like a romance only I fancy it was anything but a romance for poor Lizzie Gridley. Let's go and see what the cook has done for us." At luncheon Lidgerwood was made known to the other members of the private-car party.
The philosopher who goes to the bottom of things will remark that all the elements of her fantastic melodrama had been furnished her while waking. Master Byles Gridley's penetrating and stinging caution was the text, and the grotesque carvings and the portraits furnished the "properties" with which her own mind had wrought up this scenic show.
Her two sons, middle-aged merchants from Ohio, gave the only personal note to the occasion by their somewhat tongue-tied and embarrassed presence, for Gridley's aunt was too aged and infirm to walk with the procession from the Gymnasium, where it formed, to the Library building, where the portrait was installed.
"Gridley's a law to himself," said the trainmaster. "Sometimes I think he's all right, and at other times I catch myself wondering if he wouldn't tread on me like I was a cockroach, if I happened to be in his way." Having had exactly the same feeling, and quite without reason, Lidgerwood generously defended the absent master-mechanic. "That is prejudice, Mac, and you mustn't give it room.
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