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Updated: May 25, 2025
They stood looking towards the mountain top. The dun cloud stalking now with trailing skirts in the direction of the snow-peaks, hurled back a parting threat. "It was the pine tree," she exclaimed. "It was struck. And, see! It has carried down most of that chimney. Our staircase is completely wrecked." Tisdale was silent. Her glance came back to him. A sudden emotion stirred her face.
It's on Pine Street, near town, with a garden round it full of palms and trees." "Do they have parties there?" "No at least I never heard of any. They're quiet sort of girls, don't go out much. Just live there with an old lady Mrs. Tisdale some relative of their mother's." Sadie was disappointed.
"See here, Foster," Tisdale laid his hands on the younger man's shoulders, shaking him slowly, "you must stop this." His hold relaxed; he stepped back, and his voice vibrated softly through the room. "How could you have said it, knowing David Weatherbee as you did? No matter what kind of a woman she is, you should have remembered she was his wife and respected her for his sake." "Respect?
Still, having said this, Mr. Bromley did not seem in any hurry to go, but stood holding his hat and waiting for a word from Tisdale to redeem the situation. At last it came. "Is there no other way," he asked, "than to drag my private affairs into court?" The attorney gravely shook his head. "You never can tell what a jury will do," he said.
Every one responded, but Tisdale started from his chair, and went over and stood beside her. There, southward, through golden haze, with the dark and wooded bluffs of Vashon Island flanking the deep foreground of opal sea, the dome lifted like a phantom peak. "It doesn't seem to belong to our world," she said, and her voice held its soft minor note, "but a vision of some higher, better country."
The soil was the finest volcanic ash; the kind that grew the vineyards on Vesuvius, and he meant to plant it with grapes; with orchards, too, on the bench levels. All the tract needed was water, but there was a natural reservoir and spring on a certain high plateau that could be easily tapped with a flume." Tisdale paused while his glance moved slowly, singling out those who had known Weatherbee.
I don't know of any other horses in twenty miles, unless it's a wild band that passed this morning. They stopped down the draw, nosing out the bunch grass for an hour or two, then skidooed." Tisdale paused a thoughtful moment then asked: "When is the next freight due on this siding?" "Two-forty-five. And say" he slapped his knee at the sudden thought "that's your chance, sure.
"So," said the lawyer slowly, "you did tell the story; there was a papoose; the unfortunate incident really occurred." "Yes," responded Tisdale, "it happened in a canyon of those mountains across the Sound. You can barely make out their outline to-night; but watch for them at sunrise; it's worth waiting for."
On the day after the funeral Squire Tisdale called at the house, invited by Mrs. Preston. The squire had a smattering of law, and often acted as executor in settling estates. "I invited you to come here, Squire Tisdale," said Mrs. Preston, "to speak about my affairs.
'Well, well, Tisdale, old man, he said, 'this is good. Do you know they had you drowned or worse?" Tisdale settled back in his chair and, turning his face, looked off the port bow. The Narrows had dropped behind, and for a moment the deck of the Aquila slanted to the tide rip off Port Orchard; then she righted and raced lightly across the broad channel.
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