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Updated: June 21, 2025
"No, we haven't!" Julia answered cheerfully. "I never thought of it before; but this dear old maid either has you here, or Janey, or Doctor Brice's Mary from the village isn't he queer?" "It isn't as if you weren't practically brother and sister, Richie," Miss Toland said moderately.
The thought of one who might have accomplished what her father could not was in his head. She was at Monticello. Some three weeks later Mr. Brinsmade's buggy drew up at Mrs. Brice's door. The Brinsmade family had been for some time in the country. And frequently, when that gentleman was detained in town by business, he would stop at the little home for tea.
And the President had other uses for the handful in the army. There came a rain-sodden night when a mysterious message arrived at the little house in Olive Street. Both anxiety and pride were in Mrs. Brice's eyes as they followed her son out of the door. At Twelfth Street two men were lounging on the corners, each of whom glanced at him listessly as he passed.
A little later, Brice's scent became so distinct that the collie could abandon his nose-to-the-ground tactics and strike across country, by dead-reckoning, guided not only by his nose but by the sound of Gavin's steps. Then, in an access of delight, he burst upon the plodding man. "Why, Bobby!" exclaimed Brice, touched by the dog's rapture in having found him again. "Why, Bobby Burns!
He met Brice halfway, dropping his rifle slantingly across his breast with his hands lightly grasping the lock, and gazed at the young man curiously. "You look as if you'd had a big scare, old man, but you've clear grit for all that!" he said, with a critical and reassuring smile. "Now, what are you doing here? Stay," he continued, as Brice's parched lips prevented him from replying immediately.
You must have come across from your house on foot. I didn't hear the car .... I want you to know Brice here. I was tackled by a holdup man outside yonder a while ago. And he'd have gotten me too, if Brice hadn't sailed into him. In the scrimmage I made a fool of myself as usual, and slugged the wrong man with a monkey wrench. Poor Brice's reward for saving my life. was a broken head.
The first thing I hear of him is that he's digging holes in the clay of Chickasaw Bluff, and his cap is fanned off by the blast of a Parrott six feet above his head. Next thing he turns up on that little expedition we took to get Porter to sea again. When we got to the gunboats, there was Brice's company on the flank. He handled those men surprisingly, sir surprisingly.
His incipient rush after his enemy had carried him thus far, when the tables had so suddenly been turned against him and the Standishes. Now, without pausing in his onward dash, he leaped past Hade and straight among the in-pouring sailors. Hade had not been aware of Brice's presence in the hall. The sailors' eyes were momentarily dazzled by the brightness of the lights.
For the first time, he began to hate the errand that had brought him to Florida. Bobby Burns caused a mild diversion, as Brice's voice trailed away.
"My best and strongest holt among those men is that uncle Harry would kill the first one who tried anything like that on and they know it. That's how I get all the liberty I want here, and can come and go alone as I like." Brice's face flushed quickly with genuine shame and remorse. "Do forgive me," he said hurriedly. "I didn't think I'm a brute and a fool!"
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