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Updated: May 25, 2025
If you pulled him out of this hole he would be in another in six months. It's in his blood, just as much as it is in your blood to love horses and the woods. Let him alone; Corinne's stepfather is the man to help; that's his business, and that's where Minott wants to go.
The clear business head of his Chief cleared the situation as a north-west wind blows out a fog. "Stay out of it, Jack," he exclaimed in a quick, positive voice that showed he had made up his mind long before Jack had finished his recital. "Minott is a gambler, and so was his father before him. He has got to take his lean with his fat.
With cheeks aflame he darted to Morris's chair. "Let me hand it to him, sir," he cried, all the love for his friend in his eyes, seizing the ring and plunging toward Garry, the shouts increasing as he neared his side and placed the prize in his hand. Only then did Minott find his breath and his feet. "Why, Mr. Morris! Why, fellows!
They are all dead out here embalmed, some of them but dead." Jack always remembered the interview. That Garry should help along anything that he took an interest in was quite in the line of his ambition and ability. Minott was as "smart as a steel trap," Holker Morris had always said of him, "and a wonderful fellow among the men.
"He was in a big deal, so Mac thinks, and didn't want to haul any of it out. So when he died Mr. Breen never squawked just went over and told the old man that Mac wanted the money and to fork out; and he did, like a good one. I seen the check, I tell ye. Oh! they're all in together. Mr. Breen's kin to them New York folks, and so is Mrs. Minott. He's her father, I hear.
As to your helping Minott, what I've got to say to you is just this: let the other fellow walk the fellow Garry owes money to but don't you butt in. They'll only laugh at you. Now you will have to excuse me the market's kiting, and I've got to watch it. Give my love to Ruth. Your aunt and I will be out on the noon train for the funeral. Good-by." It was what he had expected.
Another member of Brook Farm in its earlier period was Minott Pratt, who had been a printer, and the foreman in the office of the Christian Register, the Unitarian paper published in Boston. Dr. Codman says of him that he was "a finely formed, large, graceful-featured, modest man. His voice was low, soft, and calm. His presence inspired confidence and respect. Whatever he touched was well done.
If he's been taking this right along he may know how much he can stand, but if he's experimenting with it, he'll wake up some fine morning in the next world. What do you know about it?" "Only what I have heard Mrs. Minott say," Jack whispered behind his hand. "He can't sleep without it, she told me. He's been under a terrible business strain lately and couldn't stand the pressure, I expect."
"She supposed you knew, sir;" answered Jack quietly, further concealment now being useless. "Knew what?" Peter was staring at him with wide-open eyes. "What she told you, sir," faltered Jack. The old man threw up his hands in horror. "What! You really mean to tell me, Jack, that Minott has been stealing?" Jack bent his head and his eyes sought the floor.
You needn't wait I'll call you if I want you, You've told me what I wanted to know." Again Jack bent over Garry, his heart wrung with pity and dismay. He was still there when the door opened softly and a servant entered, tiptoed to where he stood, and whispered in his ear: "Mrs. Minott says, sir, that Mr. McGowan and another man are downstairs."
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