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Updated: June 17, 2025
Emma McChesney, traveling saleswoman for the T. A. Buck Featherloom Petticoat Company, New York. It had started with a six-weeks' illness endured in the discomfort of a stuffy little hotel bedroom at Glen Rock, Minnesota. By August she was back in New York, attending to out- of-town buyers. Those friendly Middle-Western persona showed dismay at her pale, hollow-eyed appearance.
She was almost as helpless as her six-weeks' old baby; she was heart-broken by the loss of the handsome young Irishman, whom she had fondly loved; and ill and broken down by her sorrows, she lingered in Calcutta, subsisting upon her pension, and too weak to undertake the perils of the voyage home. It was at this time that poor widowed Lady Louisa met Henry Dunbar, the rich banker.
"Thank you, you are remarkably well preserved. I can hardly believe those six-weeks! What nationality?" "American, of course, or half and half; with an English mother and American ideas." "Thank you. Where is your present place of residence?" "Stoke Revel Manor House." "What is the duration of the visit?" "Fixed at a month, but may be shortened at any time for bad behaviour."
"Of course I'm not a child," cried George proudly, as he jumped from the bed and stood up very straight, to make himself look as tall as possible; "but the General may call me a six-weeks' old baby if he only lets me go along with you." "There is no time to waste," announced Andrews.
That would mean a very early rising and an uncomfortable chilly session in the college library, a dismal place in the forenoon. Never mind, first came a jolly evening with the Scorpions. The meetings were always fun, and this one, coming after the separation of a six-weeks' vacation, promised special sport.
A young American from Boston, who has been spending several years doing archæological work in Crete, accompanied by a young English cavalry officer, were starting out for a six-weeks' shoot south of the railway and near Victoria Nyanza. Two professional ivory hunters were starting for German East Africa by way of the lake. Mr.
"For me?" said Emma McChesney, looking up at him through narrowed eyelids. "I'll tell you what. You can explain to me, in what they call a few well-chosen words, just how you, or any other living creature, could manage to turn in an expense account like that on a six-weeks' missionary trip through the Middle West."
It was the middle of July, and the Rover boys had journeyed from Valley Brook, their country home, to Buffalo, a week before, for a six-weeks' outing upon the Great Lakes previous to their returning to Putnam Hall for the fall and winter term. Their thrilling adventures in Colorado, as told in "The Rover Boys Out West," had taxed them severely, and their father, Mr.
She was a young person who lived in the present. Already the marks of her six-weeks misery among the submerged derelicts of the city was beginning to be wiped from her mind like the memory of a bad dream from which she had awakened. Love was a craving of her happy, sensuous nature. She wanted to live in the sun, among smiles and laughter.
"It won't be more than a six-weeks' separation." "Six weeks!" she protested, piteously. "Perhaps less," he said. "I may be able to come to you for a day or two in the middle. Say you will go and stay, sweetheart! Set my mind at rest!" "But, darling, you may be ill. A thousand things may happen. And I couldn't go back to Shamkura.
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