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Updated: June 1, 2025
It seemed as if the old African were standing at my shoulder, saying, "What did Ah told you, hey?" The cook had used almost those very words. Where, I wondered, had he got them? It was almost uncanny. "No, sir," came the reply, it was poor Bill Hayden's voice, "no, sir, I didn't say that. I said " "Well, what did you say? Speak up!" "Why, sir, it well, it wasn't that, I know.
"Italy's a very little place compared with America. Let's go back to America, Marcia." Mrs. Vandervelde stroked the red head. It seemed to her that fate was playing into Mr. Berkeley Hayden's hands.
He skilfully untied the knot, but while at this occupation the tendrils, shining like gold in the warm, yellow glow of the moon skylight, curled about his fingers, electric, tingling, leaving a faint, stinging remembrance. "Oh, thank you." She pulled off the mask and tossed it aside with a long breath of relief, and looked up, encountering Hayden's curious and admiring gaze.
"I never knew a better or a more honest woman than Mary Leffingwell, but I tremble for her. She is utterly incapable of managing that child. If Honora is a complicated mechanism now, what will she be at twenty? She has elements in her which poor Mary never dreamed of. I overheard her with Emily, and she talks like a grown-up person." Mrs. Hayden's dimples deepened.
Not in these days of good reporting! You're copy, you understand." "But I don't want to be Mrs. Peter Champneys! I don't want to be the woman Berkeley Hayden's going to marry! I want to be just me!" she cried. "I want to go to some place where nobody's ever heard either of those names! Some little place where there are water and trees and not much else. Like, say, Jason!
In her enthusiasm Miss Greening scarcely noticed the effect of her words, else she would have seen Mrs. Hayden's expressive eyes full of a yearning, silent and strong. "Can it touch anyone's character or moral life?" she asked after a moment's pause. "Yes, indeed; there is not one thing in life that is not amenable to its discipline. Mrs.
She turned to watch this strange man who was saying things that puzzled her, and he met her eyes, as Glenn Mitchell had once met them. She wasn't looking at him as she had looked at Glenn, but Berkeley Hayden's sophisticated, well-trained, wary heart gave an unprecedented, unmannerly jump when those green eyes sought to fathom him. Marcia spoke of their proposed stay abroad.
Her wonderful gown even Hayden's untutored masculine senses appreciated its wonderfulness was of some clinging green material which embraced her in certain faultless lines and folds of consummate art. About the hem it was embroidered with silver butterflies, irregularly disposed yet all seeming to flutter upward as if in the effort to reach her knees.
Trumbull Hayden, a pioneer merchant who early saw the possibilities of development within the Salt River Valley and who built a flour mill that still is known by his name. Arizona's Congressman, Carl Hayden, is a son of the pioneer merchant, miller and ferryman. It was applied to Hayden's Ferry and also to a Mexican settlement, something over a half-mile distant, locally known as San Pablo.
Fording Salt River at Hayden's Ferry, Camp Utah was reached February 14, 1878. The journey had been a slow one, for cattle had to be driven. A few days were spent at Camp Utah and then the new arrivals moved upstream five miles, where tents were pitched on a pleasant flat, a couple of miles below the canal heading. There had been conclusion to settle upon the tableland to the southwest.
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