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Updated: May 7, 2025
Pierson had stayed in the vestry, talking with his choir and wardens; there was no hitch, for his resignation had been accepted, and he had arranged with a friend to carry on till the new Vicar was appointed. When they were gone he went back into the empty Church, and mounted to the organ-loft.
Burn on, thou humble candle, burn within thy hut of grass, Though few may be the pilgrim feet that through Ilala pass; God's hand hath lit thee, long to shine, and shed thy holy light Till the new day-dawn pour its beams o'er Afric's long midnight. Arthur T. Pierson, in "The Miracles of Missions," second series.
"I don't agree with you at all," flashed Miriam, "and I am glad to have a chance to speak my mind. I told you before the game that I objected to Miss Pierson watching our practice, that it was against the rules, but no attention was paid to what I said. If you had taken my advice the result would have been far different.
When the two friends were alone Pierson said: "Do you know, I'm beginning to get a glimpse of you. And I see there isn't anything beyond your reach. You'll get whatever you want." Scarborough's reply was a sudden look of dejection, an impatient shrug. Then he straightened himself, lifted his head with a lion-like toss that shook back the obstinate lock of hair from his forehead.
"It was contemptible," she said hotly. "It was treachery! It was a piece of cold-blooded ambition. He'd sacrifice anything, any one, to ambition. I shall never like him again." Pierson was puzzled being in love with her, he had been deceived by her pretense that she had a poor opinion of him; and he did not appreciate that her sense of justice was now clouded by resentment for his sake.
"That is sad," he said; "very, very sad." "Yes," murmured Mrs. Mitchett; "that's what I tell 'Ilda." The girl's glance, lowered for a second, resumed its impersonal scrutiny of Pierson's face. "What is the man's name and regiment? Perhaps we can get leave for him to come home and marry Hilda at once." Mrs. Mitchett sniffed. "She won't give it, sir. Now, 'Ilda, give it to Mr. Pierson."
Pierson pursued his sister-in-law to the room where she did her flowers every morning. He watched her for a minute dividing ramblers from pansies, cornflowers from sweet peas, before he said: "I'm very troubled, Thirza. Nollie came to me last night. Imagine! They want to get married those two!"
Thomas W. Barber and Robert F. Barber were farmers, living about seven miles from Lawrence; and on December 6th started with a Mr. Pierson to go home to their families. These were two brothers and a brother-in-law. They were intercepted on their way by J. N. Burns, of Weston, Mo., and Major George W. Clarke, United States Agent for the Pottawatomie Indians. These two men shot Thomas W. Barber.
He paused to laugh so queerly that Pierson looked at him uneasily. "We must go to Chicago to celebrate it." "Very good," said Fred. "We'll get Chalmers to go with us to-morrow." "No-to-day the four-o'clock train we've got an hour and a half. And we'll have four clear days." "But there's the ball to-night and I'm down for several dances." "We'll dance them in Chicago.
"Mother," said Grace some minutes later, when the girls had laid aside their wraps and descended into the drawing room, "this is Anne Pierson, our new friend." Anne Pierson, small and shrinking, was dressed in a queer, old-fashioned black silk that had evidently been taken up and made short for the occasion. Mrs.
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