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Updated: May 3, 2025
Secretly it was a pleasure to him to find that he was alive enough to care what happened, enough for anger. He demanded presently where he was going. "Not more than two hours' ride, sir, I heard Mr. De Guenther mention," answered Wallis at once. "A little place called Wallraven quite country, sir, I believe." "So the De Guenthers are in it, too!" said Allan.
She had been a real person with a major part to play, all these weeks at Wallraven.... But it was rather a comfort, now, to feel that it didn't matter to anybody what you did, as long as Grandfather was pleased. And she felt as if she was willing to be a whole row of parlor bric-a-brac, she was so meek and so tired and unhappy.
She had a good deal to do, because she was going to have to take a train that got her away from Wallraven before John found time from his rounds to come back next morning. Gail might have told Mrs. Hewitt any number of people by this time. She did not want to see any of them again. And she loved them all very much. She took off her frock with slow, careful fingers, and put on a kimono to pack in.
We won't even tell the Harringtons that it isn't true till we're on the train for Wallraven." Joy stared at him, incredulous still. She could not speak for a moment. "Oh!" she said then. "Oh why, you're the kindest man I ever knew. But then, I knew you were! Thank you ever so much ... but are you sure you don't mind at all?" "Quite sure," he told her. "Well thank you!" said Joy fervently.
You know how bitter Viola is about never getting the children to herself for a minute." Phyllis slipped an arm through her tall husband's, as they stood by the steps together. "No, but Allan, what would you do?" Allan laughed. "Send him back to Wallraven, and tell Johnny Hewitt to see that he's plunged into the middle of the chickenpox epidemic we fled from. How would you like that, young man?"
Phyllis's rose-garden house had, among other virtues, the charm of being near the little station: a new little mission station which had apparently been called Wallraven by some poetic young real-estate agency, for the surrounding countryside looked countrified enough to be a Gray's Corners, or Smith's Crossing, or some other such placid old country name.
"I never did prove it," responded Johnny Hewitt, shaking hands vigorously, "but the fellows said afterwards that I ought to apologize to the mule. He was a perfectly good mule. But I'm a doctor all right. I live here in Wallraven. I wondered if it might be you by any chance, Allan, when I heard some Harringtons had bought here.
Grace wrote me she was greatly surprised by the news, though I'm sure she needn't have expected to be told if we weren't but she was very sweet about it, and is giving a dance to all the nice people in Wallraven for you. It's set for the evening after you get there. She tells me she has arranged the invitations already, in a way that makes the short notice seem all right.
Bond has become Boon; Hoppman, Hoffman; Kalsberg, Colesberry; Wihler, Wheeler; Joccom, Yocum; Dahlbo, Dalbow; Konigh, King; Kyn, Keen; and so on. Then there are also such names as Wallraven, Hendrickson, Stedham, Peterson, Matson, Talley, Anderson, and the omnipresent Rambo, which have suffered little, if any, change.
"We're almost at Wallraven, Phyllis," Allan spoke from behind them before Joy could answer. "Better come in and get your caravan in order." "Coming," said Phyllis simply; and went in to assort her babies. But Joy had seen the look that passed between the husband and wife, and it made her a little lonely for the moment. You could see that they belonged to each other, and how glad they were of it.
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