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Updated: June 16, 2025
No, sir I ain't a-goin' to open this door, neither. I'm tryin' to save the dishes, if you want to know. I ain't goin' to let my cups and plates foller the glasses in there. A town full uh men and you stand back and let one crazy " Tom had heard Mrs. McGrew voice her opinion of the male population of Sunset on certain previous occasions.
It had been a sore grief to her when Tim, her only boy and the baby of the home, had become crippled. Perhaps she sensed more clearly than did the lad the full seriousness of the calamity. As for Tim, he accepted it in childish fashion, hopefully ignoring the problems of the future. To Van Blake Mrs. McGrew was all gratitude. Of all her children her boy was her favorite.
Then Bob whispered: "Have you thought, Van, that maybe the thing you are to do is something for that little lame boy, Tim McGrew?" The spring term passed much faster than either Bob or Van dreamed it would and despite the absence of athletics Van Blake found plenty to do to fill the gap left by this customary activity. In the first place there was his studying.
"When her Ayah was dead there was no one to give a thought to the little thing. Think of the servants running away and leaving her all alone in that deserted bungalow. Colonel McGrew said he nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened the door and found her standing by herself in the middle of the room."
"He's tearing up the whole place, and he musta found all them extra billiard balls Mike had under the bar, and is throwin' 'em away," wailed Mrs. McGrew, "and he's drinkin' and not payin'. The damage that man is doin' it would take a year's profits to make up. You gotta do something, Tom Aldershot you that calls yourself a marshal, swore to pertect the citizens uh Sunset!
The pleasure of the company of Mr. and Mrs. Thos. Brassey is requested at a Subscription Ball, at the Hawaiian Hotel, Respectfully, H.A. Widemann, Mrs. Jas. Makee and Mrs. J.S. McGrew will kindly act as matrons of the evening. Tuesday, January 2nd.
Suppose I had been smashed up so I could never play another game like that little kid, Tim McGrew," he shuddered. "It was just sheer luck that saved me. Why, do you suppose, he should have been the one to be crippled and I go scot free?" he observed meditatively. "I don't know. Maybe because there is something in the world that only you can do. My father believes that." "Do you?" "I don't know."
He had seen it before, every day since he could remember; but it seemed to have a fresh and almost mournful interest for him just now. "Hullo!" he exclaimed, as he leaned against the fence. "Putting up ladders? Oh yes, I see! That's old Tommy McGrew, the house-painter. Well, Ham's house needs a new coat as badly as I did. Sure it'll fit, too. Only it aint used to it any more'n I am." "Dabney!"
The charges are $15 a week, or $3 a day, but such a kindly, open-handed system prevails that I am not conscious that I am paying anything! This sum includes hot and cold plunge baths ad libitum, justly regarded as a necessity in this climate. Dr. McGrew has hope that our invalid will rally in this healing, equable atmosphere.
She was rather glad when Roger Patton cut in on her and suggested that they sit out a while. "Well," he inquired, blinking cheerily, "how's Carmen from the South?" "Mighty fine. How's how's Dangerous Dan McGrew? Sorry, but he's the only Northerner I know much about." He seemed to enjoy that.
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