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Updated: May 6, 2025
The only time we ever established a department was when we made Miss Larrabee society editor. She came from the high school, where her graduating essay on Kipling attracted our attention, and, after an office council had decided that a Saturday society page would be a paying proposition.
If they were well started, they were safe; and well started meant only that Larrabee Harman should leave the inn without an alarm, for an alarm sounded too soon meant "racing and chasing on Canoby Lea," before they could get out of the immediate neighbourhood.
I repeated the name questioningly. "You mean Mrs. Larrabee Harman?" "Louise Harman," she corrected. "Didn't you know she was staying at Quesnay?" "I guessed it, though Amedee got the name confused." "Yes, she's been kind enough to look after the place for us while we were away. George won't be back for another ten days, and I've been overseeing an exhibition for him in London.
Miss Larrabee said that her mother has a legend that when Priscilla Winthrop brought home from Boston the first sealskin sacque ever worn in town she gave a party for it, and it lay in its box on the big walnut bureau in the spare room of the Conklin mansion in solemn state, while seventy-five women salaamed to it. After that Priscilla Winthrop was the town authority on sealskins.
No allusion had ever been made to the episode of the counterfeit money by either his employer or himself, and it was not till months afterward that the subject was brought up by Mr. Richard Larrabee, who sauntered into the bank one morning.
"Mis' Bixbee," said David emphatically, "if I'd paid good money to see a funny show I'd be a blamed fool if I didn't laugh, wouldn't I? That specticle of the deakin cost me consid'able, but it was more'n wuth it. But," he added, "I guess, the way the thing stands now, I ain't so much out on the hull." Mrs. Bixbee looked at him inquiringly. "Of course, you know Dick Larrabee?" he asked.
"None for Larrabee," said he, suspending the patriotic air long enough to utter the words. "Goodness gracious! There must be!" exclaimed the unhappy spinster. "Have you looked 'em all over?" "I have." But Ham took down the L's again, and went through the pile once more. "None for Larrabee," he repeated, and then, for variety's sake, whistled the first strain of Hail, Columbia. "But, Mr.
Muriel intervened quickly: "I met a girl who knew Maury, the other day, and she says he doesn't drink any more. He's getting pretty cagey." "Doesn't?" "Practically not at all. He's making piles of money. He's sort of changed since the war. He's going to marry a girl in Philadelphia who has millions, Ceci Larrabee anyhow, that's what Town Tattle said."
"He has lost the memory of his earlier life lost it through an accident. You and I saw the accident." "That's impossible," said George, frowning. "I never saw but one accident that you " "That was the one: the man is Larrabee Harman." George had struck a match to light a cigar; but the operation remained incomplete: he dropped the match upon the floor and set his foot upon it.
He really didn't see how the young ladies could endure to have such persons in their set. He confided to Miss Larrabee that at a recent lawn-party he had come upon a young man, who should be nameless, with his arm about a young woman's waist.
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