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Updated: June 16, 2025
Judge Hildreth sat in his library far into the night. He was reading for the twentieth time the letter which Evadne had placed in his hands the morning after her arrival, and as he read, he frowned. "It is ridiculous, absurd!" he exclaimed impatiently. "Just of a piece with all of Len's quixotic theories. By what possible chance could a child of that age know how to manage money?
If I can't find it I'll stick up a notice." "You might have dropped it when we met that other bunch of freshmen and had the little argument with them about their hats," suggested Clarence. "That's right," went on Mortimer, still pulling on Len's arm, as though to get him away from the spot. "Maybe one of the freshmen frisked it off you," he added, looking at Andy.
"You know I'm a nobody, and I can't be disgraced like any one who bears the name of Molick!" and he laughed mockingly, though there was a sore spot in his heart. After all it is small satisfaction to be a "nobody." Dave released his hold on the bridle of Len's horse, and urged his own steed back toward Bar U ranch. "You just wait! I'll fix you for this" Len threatened.
There was nothing critical, nothing calculating, nothing repressing here; her lover wanted her, just as she stood, penniless, homeless, without a dress except the blue gingham she wore! The glory of it lighted with magic that day and the days to come. They laughed over the pretty gipsy hat, over Len's coat, over the need of borrowing Mabel's brush and comb.
In another instant she had crossed to the entrance hall, blindly snatched an old soft felt hat from the rack, caught up Len's overcoat, and slipped into it, and was gone. Born in that moment of unreasoning terror, her free soul went with her. The streets were flooded with hot summer sunshine, the sky almost white.
"The Carson outfit needs all it can get, and, as representative of the Carson interests I'll just cut out those strays of ours, Len, and head them the other way." "Huh! What right have you got to do it?" "What right? Why my father sent me to gather up our strays. I saw some of them up here yesterday." "Your father?" The sneer in Len's voice was unmistakable.
He might be on just as unfriendly terms as before, after the work was done, but he would give help. "But that isn't Len's way, evidently," mused Dave, bitterly. However he had his own work marked out for him, and no time for idle speculation. Somehow or other he must get ahead of the freed cattle and drive them back.
"Sure I will," Len promised heartily. He and his sister perfectly understood each other. They all went quietly upstairs; Len to dreamless sleep, Sally to thrilled memories of Joe Joe Joe, and Martie to shifting happy thoughts of the evening and its little triumphs, thoughts that always came back to Len's talk with Rodney. Rodney had asked Len for his pretty sister.
She asked the all-important question with more trepidation than she showed. Both she and Sally hung anxiously on the reply. "No; Pa was to come on the four-eleven, and either he missed it, or else something's kept him down town," Lydia said in her flat, gentle voice. "Len's not home either ..." "Praise God from whom all blessings flow!" Martie ejaculated piously, with her gay, wild laugh.
The big bed in Len's room was made, the bureau spread with a clean, limp towel. Pauline was interviewed; she brightened. Dean Silver was from Prince Edward's Island, too, it seemed. Pauline could make onion soup, and rolls were set, thanks be! She could open preserves; she didn't suppose that sliced figs were good enough for a company dessert.
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