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Updated: June 11, 2025
The news has only come out that the Symes's Irrigation Company is going into a Receiver's hands and the bondholders will foreclose their mortgages. Look down in the street. There's a mob of workmen from the project and the creditors of your friend Symes considering how they best can extract blood from a turnip. For some reason of his own Van Lennop has gone after Symes's scalp and got it.
"Sentimental soloist, soprano," she answered promptly, remembering Irwin's advice to talk up. "Whatcher name?" Mr. Symes asked, scarcely deigning to glance at her. She hesitated. So rapidly had she been rushed into the adventure that she had not considered the question of a name at all. "Any name? Stage name?" he bellowed impatiently. "Nan Bellayne," she invented on the spur of the moment.
Alva Jackson was in his corral distributing hay among his horses from a sack instead of a pitchfork. The Perfect Climate! Symes watched Miss Starr dig in her heels and depart lying back horizontally on the breeze. Then he slammed the door, but not before he saw Parrott's coal-house making its way toward his lot.
It was not the part of wisdom to antagonize Symes, but her desire to convince him, and Augusta, and herself, that hers was the stronger will when it came to a test, was greater than her discretion.
Symes" every line of Parrott's face was deep-lined with anxiety as he spoke "but, of course, I've made you these loans largely upon my own responsibility, I've exceeded my authority, in fact, and any failure on your part " Mr. Parrott finding himself floundering under Symes's cold gaze blurted out desperately, "Well, 'twould break us!"
The guests were leaving when she had found a chance to whisper, "You look so well to-night, Gussie," and Andy P. Symes had interrupted coldly, "Mrs. Symes, if you please, Essie." Her cheeks grew scarlet when she thought of it. She had meant to tell them in that way that the slight had not altered her friendship and Andy P. Symes had told her in his way that they did not want her friendship.
Jackson could not truthfully say that she ever had felt that she had exhausted Crowheart, but she agreed weakly "Uh-huh." "I had so many new and delightful experiences, too." Mrs. Symes smiled a sweetly reminiscent smile. "You musta had." "Going out in the train we had cantelope with cracked ice in it. You must try it sometimes, Mrs. Jackson it's delicious."
A Roumanian prince who had that day returned from a big game hunt in the mountains and who had been cordially urged by Symes to honor his wedding, adjusted his monocle and stood on a chair under a kerosene wall-lamp that he might the better inspect the fig "filling" of Mrs. Terriberry's layer cake which he seemed to regard with some suspicion. Mrs.
The dull red of mortification crept slowly over Symes's face as he realized that Ogden Van Lennop, before whom he had boasted of his lineage, and patronized, was a conspicuous member of a family whose name was all but a household word throughout the land! But why, Symes asked the question that Mudge had asked, why should Van Lennop thrust the knife between his short ribs and turn it?
James Symes of Midsomer Norton, by the names of Richard Hugh Smyth; the sponsors being the Marchioness of Bath and the Countess of Bandon, who named him Richard, after her deceased brother, Richard Boyle.
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