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"Oh, what is it?" cried David, as, under Miss Holbrook's swift fingers, the wrappings fell away and disclosed a box which, upon being opened, was found to be filled with quantities of oddly shaped bits of pictured wood a jumble of confusion. "It's a jig-saw puzzle, David. All these little pieces fitted together make a picture, you see. I tried last night and I could n't do it.
All Jim got would be taken from the others, and Mordaunt thought Holbrook's caution indicated that his share had been severely cut down. Jim was going to get money Mordaunt had imagined was his. He let the engine go, the car leaped forward, and he drove furiously until he reached the Dryholm lodge, for he wanted to find out if his supposition was correct.
Little Maddy Clyde would hardly have credited the story had she been told that the beautiful lady from Aikenside was positively jealous of Dr. Holbrook's attentions to herself; yet so it was, and the jealousy was all the more bitter when she remembered who Madeline was, and how startled that aged couple of the red cottage would be, could they know who she was.
"Well," said Roy slowly, "this was a case of necessity, you see." "Oh, you needed the money, eh?" "No; it wasn't that, though I earned a dollar and a quarter helping shingle John Holbrook's barn. You see my mother, she she lost some money recently." "Lost it?" "Yes; lost it, or or something," Roy replied stumblingly. "It wasn't much, but it was all she had.
"What a fuss you're making about nothing. You're getting wise, aren't you, Tip? Ellis was only saying that verse in fun, just as lots of people do. I've heard good men quote the Bible and laugh over it." "Can't help that," said Tip boldly; "I say it's wicked, and Ellis Holbrook's father says so too.
But the boy didn't think so! That evening was one that the boy was long to remember. It suddenly came to him that he had read a few days before of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln's arrival in New York at Doctor Holbrook's sanitarium. Thither Edward went; and within half an hour from the time he had been talking with General Grant he was sitting at the bedside of Mrs.
Those two were alone together the day before he died, when Stephen, of his own free will, made the following statement: "It was Mrs. Holbrook's father, you see," he said, in a plausible tone, "that put it to me, how he might want his daughter taken care of for a time it might be a short time, or it might be rather a longish time, according to how circumstances should work out.
It is a hard thing, perhaps, even to think him guilty for a moment. But it is so difficult to account in any common way for Mrs. Holbrook's disappearance. But it would have been easy enough for Mr. Holbrook to decoy his wife away to London or anywhere else. She would have gone anywhere with him, at a moment's notice. She obeyed him implicitly in everything."
I have thought of every word and every look of Mr. Holbrook's in the past, and all my thoughts have pointed one way. I believe that he was tired of his sweet young wife; that his marriage was a burden and a trouble to him somehow; that it had arisen out of an impulse that had passed away." "All this might be, and yet the man be innocent." "He might be yes, sir.
Even his untrained eye could see that he had entered a different world. There were no sumptuous rugs, no silken hangings; no mirrors, no snowflake curtains. There were books, to be sure, but besides those there were only a plain low table, a work-basket, and three or four wooden-seated though comfortable chairs. With increasing wonder he looked into Miss Holbrook's eyes.
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