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Updated: June 23, 2025
So the four entertained themselves finely, sometimes as a quartette, sometimes as two duos with proper changes of partners, until the clear west began to grow golden and the clear east pink with sunset. "It is a pity to go," said Peter Skerrett. "Everything here is perfection and Fine Art; but we must not be unfaithful to dinner.
C. B. Paulmier Miss Nellie Paulmier Miss Richardson and Maid Mr. and Mrs. E. G. Rideoot and Maid Mr. and Mrs. J. M. Richardson, and Maid Lady Rayleigh, and Maid Mr. J. E. Raymond Mr. J. F. Raymond Mr. Jno. F. Roy Captain Hugh Rose Mr. and Mrs. H. Skerrett Rogers Mrs. Mary Elizabeth Riches Miss Marion Riches Mr. Champion B. Russell Mr. W. Scott Mr. Harmon Spruance Mr. and Mrs. T. J. Schickle Mr.
She acknowledged with a cool bow that she did remember her guardian's character of Wade. "You do not say, Peter," says Mrs. Skerrett, with a bright little look at the other lady, "why Mr. Churm was so mysterious about Mr. Wade." "Miss Damer shall tell us," Peter rejoined, repeating his wife's look of merry significance. She looked somewhat teased.
Unless Zero came sliding down again pretty soon from Boreal regions, the sheets that filled the coves and clung to the shores would also sail away southward, and the whole Hudson be left clear as in midsummer. At Yonkers a down train ranged by the side of Wade's train, and, looking out, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Skerrett alighting. He jumped down, rather surprised, to speak to them.
Peter Skerrett came sailing round the purple rocks of his Point, skating like a man who has been in the South of Europe for two winters. He was decidedly Anglicized in his whiskers, coat, and shoes. Otherwise he in all respects repeated his well-known ancestor, Skerrett of the Revolution; whose two portraits 1. A ruddy hero in regimentals, in Gilbert Stuart's early brandy-and-water manner; 2.
Presently, glancing from his south window, he observed several matinal smokes rising from the chimneys of a country-house a mile away, on a slope fronting the river. "Peter Skerrett must be back from Europe at last," he thought. "I hope he is as fine a fellow as he was ten years ago. I hope marriage has not made him a muff, and wealth a weakling."
He has an earnest admirer in Buckingham Palace, Marianne Skerrett, known as the Queen's Miss Skerrett, the lady chiefly about her, and the only one to whom she talks of books. Miss Skerrett is herself a very clever woman, and holds Mr. Whittier to be not only the greatest, but the one poet of America; which last assertion the poet himself would, I suspect, be the very first to deny.
The train in a moment dropped him at Dunderbunk. He hurried to the Foundry and wrote a note to Mrs. Damer. "Mr. Wade presents his compliments to Mrs. Damer, and has the honor to inform her that Mr. Skerrett has nominated him carver to the ladies to-day in their host's place. "Mr. Wade hopes that Miss Damer will excuse him from his engagement to skate with her this afternoon.
Fanny Skerrett gave her hand cordially to Wade, and looked a little anxiously at his pale face. "Now, M.D.," says Peter, "you have been surgeon, you shall be doctor and dose our patient. Now, then, "'Hebe, pour free! Quicken his eyes with mountain-dew, That Styx, the detested, No more he may view." "Thanks, Hebe!" Wade said, continuing the quotation, "I quaff it! Io Paean, I cry!
The Point was on the property of Peter Skerrett, Wade's friend and college comrade of ten years gone. Peter had been an absentee in Europe, and smokes from his chimneys this morning had confirmed to Wade's eyes the rumor of his return. Skerrett's Point was a mile below the Foundry. Our hero did his mile under three minutes. How many seconds under, I will not say.
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