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Updated: May 17, 2025
Me is getting "irksome," as Robin said. Remember to tell me the boy's name. Yours gratefully if unsatisfactorily, AUGUST FIRST. P. S. Robert Halarkenden isn't his real name. It's his grandmother's father's name, and Welsh. I don't know the real one. P. S. No. 2. If it isn't inconsistent, and if you think I'm worth while, you might pray just a scrap too. That I may get to be like you and Robin.
She told him how she had read to him about the boy Theodore with his charm and his naughtiness and his Scotch name. How there had been no word from Robert Halarkenden when she finished, and how, suddenly, she had been aware of a quality in the silence which startled her, and she had looked up sharply.
Robert Halarkenden saw that I got it. You don't know who Robert Halarkenden is, do you? He's interesting, and likely you never will know about him but it doesn't matter. Your letter left me with a curious feeling, a feeling which I think I used to have as a child when I was just waking from one of the strong dreams of childhood which "trail clouds of glory."
It is this what are you going to do with your soul? I wonder if you have read as far as this. I wonder if I have been at all intelligible? Will Robert Halarkenden see that you get this thick letter? There is only one way by which I can know that it found you. I know that I have been hopelessly inadequate perhaps grotesque. To see it and be unable to tell you imagine the awfulness!
And then, when it was all done and the worst of the pain and the torment passed, away up there in the forests, Robert Halarkenden it is true, isn't it? he rose from the dead, and being risen, he took a hand in the big business of the world. And his latest job is you. Has that occurred to you? I don't mean to say that he went through all that just to be a help to you.
Robert Halarkenden; I must tell you who he is. Thirteen years ago my uncle was on a camping trip in Canada and one of the guides was a silent Scotchman, mixed in with French-Canadian habitants and half-breed Indians. My uncle was interested in him he was picturesque and conspicuous but he would not talk about himself.
The stolid potentate turned back wondering, and did not know that what he felt stirring the dried veins within him was charm. "Why, sure," he answered slowly, astonished at his own words, "I'll help you if I can. Glad t' help anybody." There was a cock-sure assistant in the back of the dirty sanctum, and to him the friend of mankind applied. "Halarkenden Robert," the assistant snapped out.
I wish you could have heard how quietly and naturally Robert Halarkenden answered me. He considered a moment first, in his Scotch way, and then he said: "Do not you see, lassie, that's where it was simple, verra simple. Houses and lands and a place in the world are small affairs after love, and mine was come to shipwreck. So it seemed to me I'd try living free of the care of possessions.
Say care of, care of " Again she laughed. "Oh, well, care of Robert Halarkenden. That will reach me." Quite gravely the man wrote down the fantastic address. "Thank you. I will write at once. You promised?" "Yes." She put out her hand. "You've been very good to me. I shall never see you again. Good-by."
Again eternal things brooded over the bright, quiet garden and the larkspur spires swayed unnoticed and the bees droned casually about them and dived into deep cups of the lilies, and peace and sunshine and lovely things growing were everywhere. But the two did not notice. After a time: "What about Halarkenden?" asked the man, holding a slim hand tight as if he held to a life-preserver.
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