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Updated: May 4, 2025
Meanwhile, Jack Loughead had come silently up into the long hall, and deposited a neat boxful of the gleaming frost on the table, without any comments. "Dear me, there is so much to tell," cried Polly, with a little laugh, "if we begin about Jappy's Tree." "Who's Tree?" cried Livingston Bayley, who had been wrinkling his brows in great perplexity all through the recital.
"Well, now, as to that matter you sent me over to London about," began Jack, nervously plunging into business. "Draw up that chair, and put your mind on the matter, and we'll go over it," interrupted old Mr. Loughead, discarding the grape-bunch suddenly, and assuming his commercial expression at once.
"I'd rather, oh, dear me, if they were bears and gorillas looking on and I just know I shall die but I'd rather, Miss Pepper, than to have you give me up." Charlotte Chatterton drew a long breath. "What's the matter?" asked Ben in dismay. "Miss Loughead was a little scared, I believe," said Charlotte, with a touch of scorn in her manner. Ben gave an uneasy exclamation.
And before any one knew how it had come about, there was Jack Loughead talking over the run down to Bedford with them all on Christmas morning, as a matter of course, and as if it had been the annual affair to him, that it was to all the others. "Quite a fine young man," said Mr.
"Of course, yes, indeed," stammered Jack Loughead, having nothing to do but to follow. Joel threw down his books in an uneasy way. "I must give it up; there's no other way," he exclaimed. "Halloo, Joe!" "You here?" cried Joel, whirling in surprise. "Come out of your hole, Dave," peering into the niche between the book-shelves and the bed. "What are you prowling in there for?"
Loughead, and what would you like to do for these poor children of Phronsie's Christmas Day? We shall be very glad of your assistance." "I could bring out a stereopticon," said Jack; "no very new idea, but I've a few pictures of places I've seen, and maybe the children would like it for a half-hour or so." "Capital, capital," pronounced the old gentleman quite as if he had proposed it.
"I'm sorry for you," he said. "One thing, King," said Jack gratefully, "will you have an eye to my uncle? He won't come with me now, but insists on going with your father who kindly invited us both to go home with you all. And when he is ready, just telegraph me and I will meet him at New York." "I'll do it gladly," said Jasper, quite shocked at Jack's appearance; "anything more, Loughead?
There, too, lies Thomas Loughead, Hairdresser, a profession far too little celebrated in song and story. His stone is a simple one, and bears merely the touching tribute: He was lovely and pleasant in his life, the inference being, to one who knows a line of Scripture, that in his death he was not divided.
"If Polly is only happy," he said to himself over and over. How long he walked thus he never knew it was only by hearing a vigorous knock on the door that he stopped, and called, "Come in." "They told me," said Jack Loughead, answering the knock, "at the Marlowes, that I should find you here, unless you had left the town. Are you sick?" he asked with concern.
At a quarter of seven, Polly, in a storm of remonstrance from all but one, hurried off to help poor Amy Loughead through her Slough of Despond. Jasper alone, just arrived for dinner, was the only one who remained silent when the storm of disapproval broke forth over Polly and her doings. After the first astonished exclamation, he had absolutely refused to say anything save "Polly knows best."
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