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Updated: June 2, 2025
"You needn't go, Mr. Flanagan. I'll see to the child. Don't go." He stepped slowly up the stairs, followed by the bewildered Flanagan. All this time Dr. Renton was listening to the racket from the bar-room.
The body was soon recognised; tears and wailings followed; and dark suspicions and dismal regrets mingled with the hurried inquiries of every new comer. Old James Renton and his wife, as decent a couple as lived in the village, were seated by the fire, enjoying their quiet evening chat, when the awful intelligence reached them.
I used to make the stories up, and they liked that also. When I added some swear words they liked them all the better. I learned how to do it." "Yes, I've heard of you, but not as Tarboe." "You heard of me as Renton, eh?" "Yes, as Renton. I wonder I never came across you till to-day." "I kept out of your way; that was the reason. When you came north, I got farther into the backwoods."
Joel Renton had made money, by good luck chiefly, having held land here and there which he had got for nothing, and had then almost forgotten about it, and, when reminded of it, still held on to it with that defiant stubbornness which often possesses improvident and careless natures.
He was just putting his latch-key in the door, when it was opened by James, who stared at him for a second, and then dropped his eyes, and put his hand before his nose. Dr. Renton compressed his lips on an involuntary smile. "Ah! James, you're up late. It's near one." "I sat up for Mrs. Renton and the young lady, sir. They're just come, and gone up stairs." "All right, James.
She put her hand on his wrist and held it. Down the road the bell of Renton Church began tolling. He turned and looked at her unsteadily, his dark eyes showing bloodshot as they swerved. "Mary is Roddy really dead?" A warm steam of brandy came and went with his breathing. "Yes. That's why you must keep quiet." Mr. Rollitt was standing at the open gate of the churchyard.
Renton had been crimped, and finding himself where he was, bothered no more about it, but went cheerfully to work, not altogether displeased at the prospect of new adventures, which would enable him to by and by go back to the old folks with plenty of dollars, and a stock of startling yarns to reel off.
And Michael knew that he was beginning to make himself felt. But Stephen's staff, such as it was, and nearly all his contributors had gone to the War, one after another, and Michael found himself taking all their places. He began to feel a strain, which he took to be the strain of overwork, and he went down to Renton to recover. That was on the Tuesday that followed Veronica's Sunday.
He seems to have taken the opportunity to apply for another patent for a furnace similar to that of James Renton.
Somehow or other the Renton Club were never very strong in goalkeeping when the perfect form of their forward division was taken into account, but Mr. J. A. Lindsay was decidedly their best. He had what might be called his good and bad days, however, and while he was always clever with his feet, he sometimes misjudged the ball and allowed a "soft thing" to take effect.
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