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Updated: June 1, 2025
As he approached the Saxon House, he saw old Bond Saxon slipping out of the side gate and with uncertain steps skulk down the alley. "Poor old sinner! What a slave and a fool whisky can make of a man!" he thought. Then he remembered Dennie's anxiety of the morning. "There must be some cause for his prejudice against this strange hermit woman when he is drunk.
I would get up in my chosen profession. Nobody was robbed or defrauded. Joshua Wream's last years would be peaceful with his conscience at rest regarding Elinor's property. And, Dennie, who would n't want to marry Elinor Wream?" "Yes, who wouldn't?" Dennie looked up with a smile. And if there were tears in her eyes Burgess knew they were born of Dennie's sweet spirit of sympathy.
Dennie hesitated. Few girls would have come to a college president on such a mission as hers. But then few college presidents are like Lloyd Fenneben. "Of course nobody likes Mrs. Marian, and my father when he's not quite himself says dreadful things if I mention her name." Dennie's checks were crimson as she thought of her father. "It's none of my business, but I've felt sorry for Mrs.
And brightly, too, the sunshine fell on Dennie Saxon's rippling hair, recalling to Vincent Burgess' memory the woodland camp fire and the old legend told in the October twilight and the flickering flames lighting Dennie's face and the wavy folds of her sunny hair.
"I come to you because I need a friend and you are tempered steel." Tonight Dennie's gray eyes were dark and shining. The rippling waves of yellow brown hair gave a sort of Madonna outline to her face, and there was about her something indefinably pleasant. "What can I do for you, Professor Burgess?" she asked. "Listen to me, Dennie, and then advise me."
"I have been a man to the extent of making myself square with Victor Burleigh, and I've felt like a free man ever since." The look of joy and pride in Dennie's eyes thrilled him with a keen pleasure. Her eyes were of such a soft gray and her pretty wavy hair was so lustrous tonight. "Dennie, I am going to be even more of a man than you asked me to be." Dennie did not look up.
Burgess did n't catch the pathos in Dennie's tone. He was only a man. "How's that?" he asked. "Oh, live alone and keep a big dog, and sell chickens. That's what Mrs. Marian does. By the way, she looks just a little bit like you." "Thank you!" "She was at the game on Thanksgiving Day, strange to say, for she seldom leaves home. Did you see a pretty white-haired woman, right south of where we were?"
She thought I was gone, and she had dropped her head on the table and was crying, so I slipped out without her knowing." Dennie's gray eyes were full of tears now. "Dr. Fenneben, if talking about Sunrise made her do that, maybe you might do something for her. I pity her so. Nobody seems to care about her.
His cheeks grew hot at the very thought of it. In the shadows, beyond him, a form straightened up stupidly: "Shay, Profesh Burgush, that you?" Dennie's father, half-drunken still! Oh, Shades of classic culture! To what depths in social contact may a college man fall in this wretched land! "Shay! Is't you, or ain't it you? You gonna tell me?" Old Bond queried.
Old Bond Saxon, Dennie's father, had been one of the improvident of Lagonda Ledge who took a new lease on a livelihood with the advent of Sunrise. From being a dissipated old fellow drifting toward pauperism, he became the proprietor of a respectable boarding house for students, doing average well. At rare intervals, however, he lapsed into his old ways.
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