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Updated: May 20, 2025
The sunshine of a day in early spring, honey pale and honey sweet, was showering over the red brick buildings of Queenslea College and the grounds about them, throwing through the bare, budding maples and elms, delicate, evasive etchings of gold and brown on the paths, and coaxing into life the daffodils that were peering greenly and perkily up under the windows of the co-eds' dressing-room.
David would have stayed in Lindsay for a few days, but a certain critical case in Queenslea demanded his speedy return. He shook hands with Eric on the station platform. "Eric, give up that school and come home at once. You can do no good in Lindsay now, and you'll only eat your heart out here." "I must see Kilmeny once more before I leave," was all Eric's answer.
To the college students who had just been capped and diplomad by "Old Charlie," the grave president of Queenslea, in the presence of an admiring throng of parents and sisters, sweethearts and friends, it sang, perchance, of glad hope and shining success and high achievement. It sang of the dreams of youth that may never be quite fulfilled, but are well worth the dreaming for all that.
But let us keep her as our own for this one winter yet." Eric yielded with the best grace he could muster. After all, he reflected, Lindsay was not so far from Queenslea, and there were such things as boats and trains. "Have you told your father about all this yet?" asked Janet anxiously. No, he had not. But he went home and wrote a full account of his summer to old Mr. Marshall that night. Mr.
"I could not marry any woman who did not fulfill those conditions. But, as I have said, I am not in love with Agnes Campion and it wouldn't be of any use if I were. She is as good as engaged to Larry West. You remember West?" "That thin, leggy fellow you chummed with so much your first two years in Queenslea? Yes, what has become of him?"
I will give you references men of standing in Charlottetown and Queenslea. If you refer to them " "I don't need to do that," said Thomas Gordon, quietly. "I know more of you than you think, Master. I know your father well by reputation and I have seen him. I know you are a rich man's son, whatever your whim in teaching a country school may be.
At all events, we must try. I have a friend in Queenslea who is a physician. His name is David Baker, and he is a very skilful specialist in regard to the throat and voice. I shall have him come here and see Kilmeny." "Have your way," assented Janet in the hopeless tone which she might have used in giving him permission to attempt any impossible thing. "It will be necessary to tell Dr.
What could have possessed our ancestors to run a town up the side of a hill? I'm not so slim and active as I was on MY graduation day ten years ago. By the way, what a lot of co-eds were in your class twenty, if I counted right. When I graduated there were only two ladies in our class and they were the pioneers of their sex at Queenslea.
"I am afraid Eric Marshall will never do one quixotic thing," said a Queenslea professor, who had a habit of uttering rather mysterious epigrams, "but if he ever does it will supply the one thing lacking in him."
He was on the staff of the Queenslea Medical College and it was whispered that before long he would be called to fill an important vacancy at McGill. He had won his way to success through difficulties and drawbacks which would have daunted most men. In the year Eric was born David Baker was an errand boy in the big department store of Marshall & Company.
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