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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Why, that devil," said Whitwell, and Westover knew that he meant Jeff, "went and piled on all the insurance he could pile on, before he left; and I don't know what to do about it." "I should think the best thing was to collect the insurance," Westover suggested, distractedly. "It a'n't so easy as what that comes to," said Whitwell. "I couldn't collect the insurance; and here's the point, anyway.
Through the window they could see the light of the lantern at the office door of the hotel, whose mass was lost in the dark above and behind the lamp. It was all very still outside. "I declare," Whitwell went on, musingly, "I wisht Mr. Westover was here." Cynthia started, but it was to ask: "Do you want I should help you with your Latin, Frank?"
Two writers have made special observations that should be confirmed and amplified before their significance can be established. Whitwell thinks that in addition to a diminished activity of the heart there exists a pathological tension. Ziehen says that he also has frequently seen angiospastic pulse-curves in exhaustion stupor or acute dementia, but that other pulse pictures may be seen as well.
"Well!" said Whitwell. "How very amusing!" said Mrs. Vostrand. "What a small world it is!" With these words she fell into a vagary; her daughter recalled her from it with a slight movement. "Breakfast? How impatient you are, Genevieve! Well!" She smiled the sweetest parting to Whitwell, and suffered herself to be led away by Jeff. "And you're at Harvard? I'm so interested!
He leaned over and read, "Thomas Jefferson " The planchette stopped, "My, I didn't go to do that," said Whitwell, apologetically. "You much acquainted with Jefferson's writin's?" he asked of Westover.
I don't know just the size and shape of the trouble between them, but Jeff may have felt that he had got even with his enemy before that day. Or he may have felt that if he was going in for full satisfaction, there was Jombateeste looking on." "That's true," said Whitwell, greatly daunted. After a while he took refuge in the reflection, "Well, he's a comical devil."
At the first of these sittings, a letter was read from Henry Grimston, Esq., of Whitwell Hall, near York, offering his services for the promotion of the cause in his own county. At the second, the Dean of Middleham's answer was received. He acquiesced in the request of the committee; when five thousand of his letters were ordered immediately to be printed. On the 22nd a letter was read from Mr.
Durgin and Whitwell ate with their knives, and Jombateeste filled himself so soon with every implement at hand that he was able to ask excuse of the others if he left them for the horses before they had half finished.
Whitwell rose from the stump and brushed the clinging chips from his thighs. "Folks trouble you any, lookin' on?" "Not yet," said Westover. "Well, there ain't a great many to," said Whitwell, going back to his axe. "I should like to see you workin' some day. Do' know as I ever saw an attist at it." "I should like to have you," said Westover. "Any time." "All right."
Jombateeste preferred the kitchen for the naps he took after supper before his early bedtime. Frank Whitwell sat with his books there, where Westover sometimes saw his sister helping him at his studies. He was loyally faithful and obedient to her in all things.
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