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Updated: May 5, 2025
I don't know her, except by sight, but in a case of life and death like this, I don't think it's necessary to wait for an introduction." The next evening Patty announced: "Sequel number two! Mr. Frederick K. Stanthrope lives in New York, and is Miss McKay's brother's best friend. She has only met him once before, and doesn't know any of his past affiliations.
Stanthrope to do but stand up and acknowledge it like a man, which he did; but there he stuck. His imagination was numbed, paralyzed; so he turned it off on poor Sadie, and all the time he knew that the other man knew that he was lying. And that is all," Patty finished. "It's not much of a story, but such as it is, it's a blessing to have it concluded."
Frederick K. Stanthrope was engaged to a girl here in college named Alice Pond she is now Mrs. Hiram Brown, but that has nothing to do with the story. "Being in town last Saturday on business, he decided to run out and call on Miss McKay, as he was such a friend of her brother's and also for the sake of old times.
It isn't really a sequel; it's just an appendix. I shouldn't tell you, only you'll find it out, so I might as well. Miss McKay has invited two men for the junior party, and both have accepted. Frederick K. Stanthrope." Patty sighed. "I see a whole series of sequels stretching away into the future. In Pursuit of Old English "Hello, Patty!
"He was sitting in that high-backed green chair, with his eyes glued to his shoes, and holding his hat and cane in front of him like breastworks, as if he were preparing to repel an attack. He didn't look very approachable, but I boldly accosted him and asked if he were Mr. Stanthrope.
And all the time I was grumbling because nothing ever happens here!" A few days later she appeared at the table with a further announcement: "I have the pleasure of offering for your perusal, young ladies, the third and last sequel in the great Stanthrope-Pond-McKay mystery. And I hereby take the opportunity of apologizing to Mr. Stanthrope for my unworthy suspicions.
He knew, of course, that the other man had heard, and he sat there scared to death, trying to think of some plausible excuse, and momentarily expecting a strange Miss Pond to pop in and demand an explanation. Frederick K. Stanthrope. He very properly denied it, whereupon there was nothing for the right Mr.
There were two men in the reception-room, and of course I picked out the wrong one and begged his pardon and asked if he were Mr. Stanthrope. He said no; his name was Wiggins. So then the only thing left for me to do was to beg the other one's pardon.
As this was unanswerable, Priscilla returned to her frogs, and Patty drummed gloomily on the window-pane until a maid appeared with a card. "A caller?" cried Patty. "A missionary! A rescuer! A deliverer! Heaven send it's for me!" "Miss Pond," said Sadie, laying the card on the table. Patty pounced upon it. "'Mr. Frederick K. Stanthrope. Who's he, Pris?" Priscilla wrinkled up her brows.
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