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Updated: May 31, 2025
Jenney of the apple orchard, but holding out a horny hand with unmistakable warmth, "how be you, Austen?" Looking about him, Mr. Jenney put his hand to his mouth, and added, "Didn't expect to see you trailin' on to this here kite." He took a piece of cake between his thumb and forefinger and glanced bashfully at Victoria. "Have some lemonade, Mr. Jenney? Do," she urged.
Jenney had, unfortunately, a wife already, some children by her, and one expected; but ho too had been meditating on the Divorce Doctrine, and had used his Christian liberty. Mr. Edwards had been most particular in his investigations.
"I'll stay, with pleasure," she said. Mr. Jenney pronounced grace. Victoria sat across the table from Austen, and several times the consciousness of his grave look upon her as she talked heightened the colour in her cheek. He said but little during the meal. Victoria heard how well Mrs. Jenney's oldest son was doing in Springfield, and how the unmarried daughter was teaching, now, in the West.
You'd have been soaked before you got to Harris's. How be you? I ain't seen you since that highfalutin party up to Crewe's." "It's very kind of you to let me come in, Mr. Jenney." "But I have a rain-coat and a boot, and I really ought to be going on." Here Victoria produced the rain-coat from under the seat. The garment was a dark blue, and Mr.
"Why?" asked Victoria. "Well, it was a fearless thing to do plumb against his own interests with old Hilary Vane. Austen's a bright lawyer, and I have heard it said he was in line for his father's place as counsel." "Do do people dislike the railroad?" Mr. Jenney rubbed his beard thoughtfully. He began to wonder who this young woman was, and a racial caution seized him.
Jenney makes an awkward pause by keeping silent on the subject of the pamphlet until he shall see it. "Do you take much interest in politics?" "Not a great deal," answers Mr. Jenney. "That's the trouble with Americans," Mr. Crewe declares, "they don't care who represents 'em, or whether their government's good or bad." "Guess that's so," replies Mr. Jenney, politely.
Beyond the farm-house, on the other side of the road, was a group of gray, slate-shingled barns, and here two figures confronted her. One was that of the comfortable, middle-aged Mr. Jenney himself, standing on the threshold of the barn, and laughing heartily, and crying: "Hang on to him That's right get him by the nose!"
"But, really," he added, smiling at her in the moonlight, "I must protest against your belief that I could have been an effective candidate! I have roamed about the State, and I have made some very good friends here and there among the hill farmers, like Mr. Jenney. Mr. Redbrook is one of these. But it would have been absurd of me even to think of a candidacy founded on personal friendships.
Jenney, his eyes wandering over the Leviathan. "How are the apples this year?" asks Mr. Crewe, graciously. "Fair to middlin'," says Mr. Jenney. "Have you ever tasted my Pippins?" says Mr. Crewe. "A little science in cultivation helps along. I'm going to send you a United States government pamphlet on the fruit we can raise here." Mr.
"That sort of thing's got to stop," declares Mr. Crewe; "I'm a candidate for the Republican nomination for representative." "I want to know!" ejaculates Mr. Jenney, pulling his beard. One would never suspect that this has been one of Mr. Jenney's chief topics of late. "I'll see that the interests of this town are cared for." "Let's see," says Mr.
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