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Updated: May 15, 2025
Abner had his little talk with Edith Whyland, all unteased by consideration of the imperceptible nuances and infinitesimal gradations that characterize the social fabric. He thought her rather quiet and inexpressive; but he felt her to be a good woman, and was inclined to like her. She dwelt at some length on Dr.
"You are not out there in the country a hundred miles back from the lake. You must stay, of course." Still Abner moved toward the door. Could any city man be as friendly as Whyland seemed? "It will be colder later on," he submitted. "Our welcome will never be warmer." Whyland looked toward his wife their rustic appeared to be exacting the observance of all the forms.
He had heard about the children, left behind for a lonely dinner with the farm superintendent, and he began to scent cruelty and injustice in their progenitors. The wrongs of the child they too had their share in keeping our generous Abner in his perennial state of indignation. He became didactic, judicial, hortatory; Edith Whyland almost questioned her right to be a mother.
All should reverence the altar; none should insult the humblest neophyte. Mrs. Whyland indulgently overlooked his reckless use of names and liked him none the less; and the little lady who had suffered on a similar occasion, though in a different role, gave him a glance of thanks. "I know the type," said Mrs. Whyland.
We go to help receive and to look on during the march and to see the dancing started." "I should like to have a hand in helping Medora contrive a costume that would do her justice," said Mrs. Whyland. "She is really quite a beauty, and she has a great deal of distinction. Nothing could be better than her profile and those exquisite black eyebrows."
"No wine, thank you," said Abner to the maid, placing his broad hand on the foot of a glass already turned down. "At the ball? I hardly think so. I never " "You might find it amusing," said Mrs. Whyland. "A good many of your friends will be there ourselves among them." "Yes," said Whyland, turning his eyes away from the uncontaminated glass, "my wife is a patroness, or whatever they call it.
His hobbies began to poke forth their noses, to whinny, to neigh; but some force stronger or more dexterous than himself seemed to be guiding the talk, and the name of Medora Giles began to mingle with the click of silver on china and to weave itself into the progress of the service. "A very sweet girl," declared Edith Whyland. "Nothing pleased me more than her nice domestic ways at the farm.
One day before long, then, Abner buttoned his handsome double-breasted frock-coat across his capacious chest and put on a neat white lawn tie and sallied forth to call on Edith Whyland.
During the day the telephone had made common property of the news of Abner's arrival, and the next morning, an hour or so after breakfast, the front yard resounded with the loud cry of, "What ho, neighbours!" and Leverett Whyland was revealed in a trig cart drawn by a handsome cob. "Why, what's that man doing here?" Abner asked Giles, as they stood by the living-room window.
"They threaten me in my own office it comes to that. Well, what shall a man do? Shall he fight or shall he submit? Shall I go into court or shall I compromise with them?" "It comes to one thing in the end," said Bond, "if you value your peace of mind. But even then you can put the best face on it." Whyland sighed.
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