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Hopper drew something out of his pocket, eyed Miss Crane, and bit off a corner. "What office was you going into?" he asked genially. Mr. Brice decided to answer that. "Judge Whipple's unless he has changed his mind." Eliphalet gave him a look more eloquent than words. "Know the Judge?" Silent laughter. "If all the Fourth of Julys we've had was piled into one," said Mr.
He has had an unusual career, having been taken prisoner as a boy by an officer of the army. He was sent to school and eventually graduated from Bishop Whipple's Seabury Divinity School at Faribault, Minn. Since that time Doctor Coolidge has devoted himself to the Christianization of his race. He is the president of our recently organized Society of American Indians.
The Judge was shaven, save for a shaggy fringe of gray beard around his chin, and the size of his nose was apparent even in the full face. Stephen felt that no part of him escaped the search of Mr. Whipple's glance. But it was no code or course of conduct that kept him silent. Nor was it fear entirely. "So you are Appleton Brice's son," said the Judge, at last.
Carvel made an injudicious mixture of the two, and held it to the lips of his friend. He was pushed away. "Come, Silas," he said. "No!" cried the Judge, and with this effort he slipped back again. Those who stood there thought that the stamp of death was already on Judge Whipple's face. But the lips were firmly closed, bidding defiance, as ever, to the world.
Hopper drew something out of his pocket, eyed Miss Crane, and bit off a corner. "What office was you going into?" he asked genially. Mr. Brice decided to answer that. "Judge Whipple's unless he has changed his mind." Eliphalet gave him a look more eloquent than words. "Know the Judge?" Silent laughter. "If all the Fourth of Julys we've had was piled into one," said Mr.
And then, "What was it?" she demanded. "He said that his mother was alone in town, and needed him." Virginia got up without a word, and went into Judge Whipple's room. And there the Colonel found her some hours later, reading aloud from a scrap-book certain speeches of Mr. Lincoln's which Judge Whipple had cut from newspapers.
"After his father shot himself," Whipple's lowered tone was a plea. "After his father shot himself." "Huh!" snorted Dykeman. "If a man shoots himself, he's been shot, hasn't he? Hell! What's the use of whipping the devil round the stump that way? Boyne, you can stand with us, or you can fight us."
"I'm sure that the boys of the Lower House know that I am always ready and eager to aid in any way," he replied with angry dignity, "If they will allow me to contribute " He paused and viewed the circle smilingly. The idea tickled all hands hugely. "Yes, sir!" "Thank you, sir!" "About five dollars, Mr. Whipple!" Mr. Whipple's smile grew strained and uneasy.
He was certainly as friendly to what promised well in the younger men as he was to what was done well in their elders; and there was no one writing in his day whose virtues failed of his recognition, though it might happen that his foibles would escape Whipple's censure.
When he installed her beside him in Sharon Whipple's newest car, pressed upon the youth by its owner for this occasion, she almost wished that she had been a bit more daring in her own dress. It was white and neat, but not fancy dressmaking in any sense of the word.
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