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Updated: June 28, 2025
At last dinner was over, and when they went out of the dining-room Isabel said to her mother: "I'm going to take Bateman along to my den. We have various things to talk about." "Very well, my dear," said Mrs Longstaffe. "You'll find your father and me in the Madame du Barry room when you're through."
Joe Longstaffe was not intellectual; his theology was such that even the Salvation Army shook their heads over it; he had read nothing but the Bible and Wesley's Diary and those with pain; he stuttered and stumbled grotesquely in his speech, and a clerical Oxford don, who pilgrimaged from Pevensey to hear him, remarked that the only thing he brought away from the meeting was the phrase, reiterated ad nauseam,
He has had little experience, and he is a scholar, not a person of business. But why should the marriage be delayed? This is the worst moment for them both. I know my son, Mr. Longstaffe. All this frets him beyond description now; but when the uncertainty is over, and all these negotiations, everything will come round.
Longstaffe was not anxious to see Geoff, nor disturbed that the little boy's midday meal should have been postponed to business, though this disturbed Geoff's mother, who had been in the habit of thinking his comfort the rule of her life. She was much startled not to find him in the dining-room, and to hear that he had not come back. "Not come back! and it is two o'clock!
Perhaps, however, he had reached this conclusion too quickly, for Jackson, without a pause, added: "I understand you're very friendly with the Longstaffes. Mary Longstaffe is my sister." Now Bateman asked himself if Arnold Jackson could think him ignorant of the most terrible scandal that Chicago had ever known. But Jackson put his hand on Edward's shoulder. "I can't sit down, Teddie," he said.
"Plenty of liberty to enjoy themselves " that was the principle she had found successful in the stockyard and the gardens, and she tried it on Boy without a tremor. Old Joe Longstaffe on his death-bed confirmed the faith of his daughter in this matter of the education or non-education of the child. "Don't meddle," he had said, "God'll grow in her if you'll let him."
And that tall daughter of his, who rarely smiled, and never grieved, who was always strong, quiet, and equable, going about her work regular as the seasons, possessed it, too. Everybody, indeed, respected Patience Longstaffe, if few loved her.
"I don't think we're speaking of the same person," answered Bateman, frigidly. He was startled. It was queer that Arnold Jackson, known apparently to all and sundry, should live here under the disgraceful name in which he had been convicted. But Bateman could not imagine whom it was that he passed off as his nephew. Mrs Longstaffe was his only sister and he had never had a brother.
Edward hesitated. His natural truthfulness obliged him to admit a knowledge he would gladly have been able to deny. "Yes, I have. But it's a long time ago. I guess I didn't pay very much attention." "There are not many people in Chicago who haven't heard of Arnold Jackson," said Mr Longstaffe bitterly, "and if there are they'll have no difficulty in finding someone who'll be glad to tell them.
But just at that moment a loud wave of conversation and of laughter seemed to sweep down upon them from the other end of the table, and their little private eddy was effaced. The squire had been telling an anecdote, and his clerical neighbours had been laughing at it. 'Ah! cried Mr. Longstaffe, throwing himself back in his chair with a chuckle, 'that was an Archbishop worth having!
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