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Updated: May 23, 2025
Trowbridge's eyes sparkled with his appreciation of it. "Well, maybe he would," she said, finally. "Maybe I'll make good along with Sherlock Holmes." He winked at her as he slipped from his horse's back, on the edge of a rocky knoll, fronting the jack-pines. "This is the place, I reckon."
And, of course, women did. There was that pretty, capable woman who came into Mr. Trowbridge's office, and was introduced as the assistant editor. Coolly dressed, dainty and calm, she had not suggested that the struggle was too hard. She had smilingly greeted Martie, offered a low-voiced suggestion, and vanished unruffled and at peace. "Why, that's what this world IS," Martie reflected.
"How do you do?" enquired Ide, the one with the fringe. I fancied that they must both be Mrs. Trowbridge's daughters, but she continued the ceremony of presentation by saying: "Patty is Miss Pinkerton; and Ide is Miss Jay. They generally stay with Mr. Trowbridge and me pretty nearly all the year round.
"Yes," Polly assented, and then studied the rug for a moment. The Doctor waited. "We went to a musicale, this forenoon, at Mrs. Trowbridge's," she resumed. "The little boy was there who plays the violin so beautifully. Mrs. Jocelyn got me a new hair ribbon and sash to wear." "Did you enjoy those better than the music?" twinkled the doctor. "Oh, no!" The tone was almost reproachful.
Good-by, my dear," she added, holding out her hand to Honora. "I hope you enjoy your ride." Mr. Trowbridge's phaeton was brought up, Brent helped Mrs. Chandos in, and stood for a moment gazing after her. Amusement was still in his eyes as he turned to Honora. "Poor Lula!" he said. "Most women could have done it better than that couldn't they?"
But I just couldn't help it. It's all Clara Trowbridge's fault. She insisted on my staying to meet that Renee Labride who dances so divinely in Lady Emmeline. She's sweet. I've seen her eight times." Here she took Honora's arm, and faced her towards the street. "What do you think of my turnout? Isn't he a darling?" "Is he full grown?" asked Honora. Lilly Dallam burst out laughing.
By J.T. TROWBRIDGE, Author of "Father Brighthopes," "Neighbor Jackwood," etc. New York: Sheldon & Company. 1860. pp. 276. Mr. Trowbridge's previous works have made him known to a large circle of appreciating readers as a writer of originality and promise.
Good-by, my dear," she added, holding out her hand to Honora. "I hope you enjoy your ride." Mr. Trowbridge's phaeton was brought up, Brent helped Mrs. Chandos in, and stood for a moment gazing after her. Amusement was still in his eyes as he turned to Honora. "Poor Lula!" he said. "Most women could have done it better than that couldn't they?"
He was the pioneer who pointed the way to a great invention, though he himself failed to attain it. Bell followed up Trowbridge's suggestions of using the water as a medium of communication, and in a series of experiments conducted on the Potomac River established communication between moving ships. Professor Dolbear also turned from telephone experimentation to the search for the wireless.
Gilmore's name was often mentioned as the whole story was told of Lord Trowbridge's new quarrel, and of the correspondence with the bishop, of which Fenwick had learned the particulars from the bishop's chaplain. And in the telling of this story Mrs. Fenwick did not scruple to express her opinion that Harry Gilmore had behaved well, with good spirit, and like a true friend.
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