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Patsy, faring leisurely westward to meet the Princess in the park and be driven home, at the corner of Lyonesse House, just where you turn towards the green of the tree-tops discerned at the street's end, came within the sound of a mighty voice.
"He's cleaning up the community. Herrick, I want you to know Bob Street's sister, Miss Polly Street." He added a few words of explanation of the girl's presence. Herrick surveyed her with interest. "You are unlucky to strike this country at such a time," he said. "Unless you like experiences?" "I do," said Polly, promptly. "That's why they're sending me home." The little man smiled.
The ridge fell away steeply, through rifts of wynds and closes, to the Cowgate ravine on the one hand, and to Princes Street's parked valley on the other. Mr. Traill turned into the narrow descent of Warriston Close.
But we will remain here in this smoke-enveloped town, with the silent street's dark houses. It was almost midnight when we went out and came to the market-place. There was a wedding in one of the houses, and a great crowd of persons stood outside, the women nearest the house, the men a little further back.
In Miriam Street's little studio, where they were laughing about the baby and the supper, it had seemed different. But here, in a hotel, I suddenly wanted my sister, I wanted to be home again. "We were talking and planning naturally enough. Royal was coming and going in the two rooms; I had plenty of chance to to escape. Every time I let one go by my heart beat harder."
"But, of course, it wouldn't look well for the Sup'rintendent to run away." "Street's not the running kind, either; don't fool yourself about that," remarked Scott, quietly. "He's a good kid. I don't care if he is a rich man's son," said Adams with sincerity. "If my Dad had money I wouldn't be keeping books, you bet."
"What are you doing now?" asked O'Neil, with the interest he could not refuse to any one who had ever worked with him. He remembered the fellow perfectly. He had come on from the East as auditor, and had appeared to be capable, although somewhat given to drink. "I'm a broker. Wall Street's my habitat. Fine time to buy stocks, Misser O'Neil." Bulker assumed an expression of great wisdom.
In the fall of 1898 a man of middle years walked slowly down the stairs which plunged a traveler from the new Ferry building's upper floor into the maelstrom of Market street's beginning.
At the news of her sister's condition, she merely shrugged her shoulders. "She'll not die, Katie," she said calmly. "But see that Miss Sidney eats something, and if she is worried tell her I said to get Dr. Ed." Very significant of Harriet's altered outlook was this casual summoning of the Street's family doctor. She was already dealing in larger figures.
Only that we know Kenyon's errand, we could hardly forgive him for venturing into the Corso with that troubled face. Even yet, his merry martyrdom was not half over. There came along a gigantic female figure, seven feet high, at least, and taking up a third of the street's breadth with the preposterously swelling sphere of her crinoline skirts.
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