Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 28, 2025
One lovely spring morning and this story begins on a spring morning some fifty years or more ago a joy of a morning that made one glad to be alive, when the radiant sunshine had turned the ribbon of a road that ran from Warehold village to Barnegat Light and the sea to satin, the wide marshes to velvet, and the belts of stunted pines to bands of purple on this spring morning, then, Martha Sands, the Cobdens' nurse, was out with her dog Meg.
I've got a bad case some miles out of Warehold, and I need you; it's a compound fracture, and I want you to help with the chloroform." All her indecision vanished and all her doubts were swept away as she caught the tones of his voice. Who else in the wide world understood her as he did, and who but he should guide her now? Had he ever failed her? When was his hand withheld or his lips silent?
Newcomers in Barnegat and Warehold thought Archie was his son, and would talk to the doctor about him: "Fine lad you got, doctor don't look a bit like you, but maybe he will when he gets his growth." At which the doctor would laugh and pat the boy's head. During all these years Lucy's letters came but seldom.
She spoke with her usual good-humor, but with a slight trace of surprise and disappointment in her tone. "When I opened my mail this morning; but my going won't make any difference about Warehold. Bones and the groom will take care of you." Lucy leaned back in her chair and looked over the rail of the porch. She had noticed lately a certain restraint in Max's manner which was new to her.
Under the shadow of the sombre pines, along the ribbon of a road, dull gray in the light of the stars, and out on the broader highway leading to Warehold, the sharp click of the mare's hoofs striking the hard road echoed through the night.
In Warehold village they were looked upon as two most charming and delightful people, rich, handsome, and of proper age and lineage, who were exactly adapted to each other and who would prove it before the year was out, with Pastor Dellenbaugh officiating, assisted by some dignitary from Philadelphia. At the hostelry many of the habitues had come to a far different conclusion.
There were also souvenirs of his earlier student life a life which few of his friends in Warehold, except Jane Cobden, knew or cared anything about including a pair of crossed foils and two boxing-gloves; these last hung over a portrait of Macaulay.
Popularity in a country village could never, she knew, be gained by a pretty woman without great discretion. She explained her foresight to Jane by telling her that there was no man of her world in Warehold but the doctor, and that she wouldn't think of setting her cap for him as she would be gray-haired before he would have the courage to propose.
Those of them who remembered the happy, joyous girl with her merry eyes and ringing laugh were ready to give her a hearty welcome; they felt complimented that the distinguished lady fifteen years' residence abroad and a rich husband had gained her this position should be willing to exchange the great Paris for the simple life of Warehold. It touched their civic pride.
Sea air always did agree with him, and he was a fool to leave it. Lucy met him at the station in answer to his telegram sent over from Warehold. She was dressed in her very best: a double-breasted jacket and straw turban, a gossamer veil wound about it. Her cheeks were like two red peonies and her eyes bright as diamonds.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking