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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Wrigley was drowned yesterday noon at Bradley Beach, a seaside resort on the New Jersey coast about one mile south of Asbury Park." While he was talking, Jimmy heard the squealing of brakes on the other side of the house. A motor car had come to a stop in front of the camp. The eyes of the entire group turned in that direction.
Mr Crawley, Samuel's principal, had been legal adviser to the late Mr Wrigley; it was only natural, therefore, that the widow, not liking to entrust her secret to the pettifogging practitioner of her own village, should make use of a two hours' break in her journey to seek his aid. "Your master's not in, young man?" said she, as she took the proffered seat. "That's a pity."
This was getting critical. Either the lady was mad, or she had mistaken Reginald for some one else. In either case he felt utterly powerless to deal with the difficulty. So like a prudent man he decided to hold his tongue and let the lady explain herself. "Love, indeed!" said she, for the third time. "You saucy jackanapes, you. No, sir, my name's Wrigley!"
They no longer bundle the pictures around like herring cases. Instead they look at them, try them this way and that way until they find out which way is right side up. Then they pass judgment. Louis unwraps them. I was standing by in the basement with Bert Elliott, who has submitted a modernistic picture of Michigan Avenue, the Wrigley Building and the sky, called "Up, Straight and Across."
He spoke to Justice Higginbotham: "Fo' you, suh. Je'sey City callin'." As Justice Higginbotham arose to answer the call, Antoine Rochambeau spoke, his voice breaking to a faint croak: "Jersey City is the home of Wrigley." The speaker was looking at Professor Brierly with burning eyes, a hectic flush flaming in his drawn cheeks. Professor Brierly looked at him sharply.
He concluded his sentence haltingly: " Three are not here. They are Schurman, Miller and Wrigley. But come along, I will introduce you." Jimmy was puzzled over the fact that, in varying form, the other members of the group expressed astonishment at a member of the staff of a New York paper being there.
Before we had time to discuss this prospect, a deciding step was announced, by Jarvis, He was under positive orders to catch the steamer Wrigley at Fort Resolution on the evening of July 10. It was now mid-day of July 9, and only by leaving at once and travelling all night could he cover the intervening 60 miles.
We ought to send it back." "Let's see, Louis." Time out for critical inspection. "You're right. It is a mistake. 'Up, Down and Across, you said. Well, we'll let it ride. It's not our fault. What's the name of the guy?" "Bert Elliott," called Louis. A laugh followed. Louis turned to me and my friend. "You see this?" he said. "I get it now. That's the Wrigley Building over there.
That his old friend was just recovering from his consequent grouch, and, anyway, folks mustn't expect anything more than common civility from him as yet. He said that he hoped to make Fort Wrigley on the Mackenzie River some time in the summer, and maybe even Fort Simpson. But that would be the limit. By that time, he guessed Bill would have mutinied and probably murdered him.
In the afternoon we alighted at the little seaport and took a cab to the Castle Hotel, close to the water. My father, with a face full of light, sprang up-stairs to the room in which my mother awaited him; I found myself with my sisters and Fannie Wrigley, the faithful nurse and companion who had accompanied them on their travels. How tall and mature Una was! What a big girl baby Rose had become!
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