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Updated: April 30, 2025
Lamoury," said Paige, with a very casual air, "behind those bushes is a broken board." "So-o?" said Pete. "Any one who was there had an excellent chance to study the fastenings of Mr. Peaslee's hen-house door." "Mais, Ah'll was tol' you Ah'll not be dere, me!" cried Pete, alarmed and excited. "That," said Mr. Paige, calmly, "is the only place where you could be and get shot from the boy's window.
"All the committee but the parson," his son admitted. "And all good men," Uncle Jason said reflectively. "Schoolhouse locked?" "So they say," Marty declared. "That's what set them on Nelson. Only him and the janitor carry keys to the building." "Who's the janitor?" asked Uncle Jason. "Benny Thread. You know, the little crooked-backed feller lives on Paige Street.
He did not afterward remember how he came to the theatre. Presently he found himself in a lower tier box, talking to a Mrs. Paige who, curiously, miraculously, resembled the girlish portraits of his mother or he imagined so until he noticed that her hair was yellow and her eyes blue.
She looked into the mirror and stood content with what she saw reflected there. "How much of a relation is he, Celia?" balancing the rosy bow with a little cluster of pink hyacinth on the other side. Celia Craig, forefinger crooked across her lips, considered aloud. "His mother was bo'n Constance Berkley; her mother was bo'n Betty Ormond; her mother was bo'n Felicity Paige; her mother "
The last reverberations sank away. Nothing happened. Percy Darrow let his hand fall. "The proof," he repeated, "is that you are still here." From the night outside rose a wild shriek of rejoicing, stupendous, overwhelming, passionate. Paige sprang across the room. "Release!" he shouted fairly in Simmons' ear. The spark crashed.
But the men were weary and uncommunicative; Estcourt Craig went to his club after dinner; Stephen, now possessing a latch-key, disappeared shortly afterward. Paige and Marye did embroidery and gossipped together under the big crystal chandelier while their mother read aloud to them from "Great Expectations," which was running serially in Harper's Weekly.
And escorted in this amazing manner, cinder-smeared, hot, rumpled, and very tired, Ailsa Paige and Letty Lynden entered the unspeakably dirty streets of the Capital of their country and turned into the magnificent squalor of Pennsylvania Avenue which lay, flanked by ignoble architecture, straight and wide and hazy under its drifting golden dust from the great unfinished dome of the Capitol to the Corinthian colonnade of the Treasury.
We're learning. . . . By the way, you didn't know that Ailsa Paige had been to Paigecourt, did you?" "When?" "Recently. . . . She's another fine woman. She never had an illness worse than whooping cough. I know because I've always been her physician. Normally she's a fine, wholesome woman, Berkley but she told a falsehood. . . . You are not the only liar south of Dixon's damnable Line!"
"What is the matter, Mrs. Paige?" inquired Captain Hallam anxiously. "Are you faint?" She opened her eyes and smiled in pretence of surprise at such a question; and Hallam muttered: "I thought you seemed rather pale all of a sudden."
And, in consequence, I can now take my little girl away from here on furlough, thank God! and thanks to Ailsa Paige, who lied like a martyr in her behalf. And that's what I came here to tell you." He drew a long, shuddering breath, his hand relaxed on Berkley's shoulder, and fell away.
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