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Updated: June 12, 2025
Slawson ceased plying her polishing-cloth upon the hardwood floor, sat back upon her heels, and calmly gathered her utensils together. "Say, my mother she said tell you she wanted to see you right off, for something particular. Ain't you goin' to hurry?" "Shoor I am. Certaintly." "You don't look as if you was hurrying."
Slawson tells me, your father was Judge Lang of Michigan?" "Yes Grand Rapids." "You are a college graduate?" "Wellesley." "You have taught before?" "I tutored a girl throughout a whole summer. Prepared her for her college entrance exams." "She passed creditably?" "She wasn't conditioned in anything." "How are you on discipline?" "I don't know." "You have had no experience?
An' so I guess he wasn't so very mad, after all." "Most like it's the Spring," said Martha. It was Memorial Day. She and Miss Lang were at home, sitting together in Claire's pretty room, through the closed blinds of which the hot May sun sent tempered shafts of light. Claire regarded Mrs. Slawson steadily for a moment, seeming to make some sort of mental calculation meanwhile.
Neither had he thirteen hundred dollars in hand to talk with. About a month later, finding that he had not made any progress, Shaughnessy reported definitely that Slawson would not extend the lease. "I guess this thing's got to come to an end," he said, affecting an air of concern. "Well, if it has, it has," answered Hurstwood, grimly.
I'd like to put the place in order make some improvements, do a little remodeling. I need a trusty man to oversee the laborers, and keep an eye and close tab on the workmen I send up from town. If Mr. Slawson would act as superintendent for me, I'd pay him what such a position is worth, and you would have your house, fuel, and vegetables free. Don't try to answer now.
I s'pose you think you'll walk up Fifth Avenoo in the church parade, an' folks'll stare at you, an' nudge each other an' whisper 'Looka there! That's Miss Cora Slawson that you read so much about in the papers. That one on the right-hand side, wearin' the French shappo, with the white ribbon, an' the grand vinaigrette onto it. Ain't she han'some?"
At last the train did start, and they were whirled out of the steaming city, over the hills and far away, through endless stretches of sunlit country, and the long, long hours of the hot summer day, until, at night, they reached their destination, and found Sam Slawson waiting there in the cool twilight to welcome them.
Came the voice of big Sam Slawson from within his chamber: "Just what I say to you, my dear. It ain't your funeral. Come back, Martha, an' go to bed." "Well, that's another pair o' shoes, entirely, Sammy," whispered Martha. "This business has been goin' on long enough, an' I ain't proposin' to put up with it no longer. Such a state o' things has nothin' to recommend it.
"Now, the Jones-Green fire, the Quadrangle fire, the Slawson Building fire, and the rest, have all been set for one purpose to collect insurance. I may as well say right here that some people are in bad in this case, but that others are in worse. Miss Wend was originally a party to the scheme. Only the trouble with Miss Wend was that she was too shrewd to be fooled.
Slawson opened it, and gave a quick gasp of delight the sound of triumph escaping one who, having diligently sought, has satisfactorily found. "Like it!" Martha ejaculated. Claire deliberated a moment, watching the play of expression on Martha's mobile face. "If you like it as much as all that," she said at last, "I wish you'd take it and keep it.
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