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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Lots of good I could have done if that black beast had been able to keep right on after your horse, Sue," laughed Pratt. "You ask Mr. Sam Harding or any of them." Sue's pretty face was marred by a frown, and she tossed her head. "I don't need to ask them. Didn't you catch me as I fell?" "Oh, but, Sue "
And as soon as Splash saw that the little dog had stopped, Splash stopped also. But he stopped so suddenly that the wagon almost ran up on his back. It turned around, and then it went over on one side, so that Bunny and Sue were spilled out. But they fell on some soft grass, so they were not hurt a bit, though Sue's dress was stained.
Jude used to be a proud sort of chap above any business almost, leave alone keeping a standing." "Perhaps my husband has altered a little since then. I am sure he is not proud now!" And Sue's lips quivered again.
In the months after Sue's last recovery, and during the long evenings, as they sat together or walked under the stars in the park, the thought of these talks was often in Sam's mind and he found himself beginning to speculate on her present attitude and to wonder how bravely she would meet the idea of a separation.
"I wish I could help to make it so!" he cried impulsively. "Why, you can," she returned quickly. "Of course you can. Perhaps that is why the current landed your boat at my garden, instead of carrying you on down the rapids to Elbow Rock. Who can say?" A new light kindled in the man's eyes as his sensitive nature took fire at Auntie Sue's words.
At the table sat Colonel Tom with his broad white shirt front, his white, pointed beard, and his grandiloquent flow of talk; at Sue's side sat Jack Prince, pausing in his open admiration of Sue to cast an eye on the handsome New York girl at Sam's end of the table or to puncture, with a flash of his terse common sense, some balloon of theory launched by Williams of the University, who sat on the other side of Sue; the artist, who hoped for a commission to paint Colonel Tom, sat opposite him bewailing the dying out of fine old American families; and a serious-faced little German scientist sat beside Colonel Tom smiling as the artist talked.
There was some truth in what he said; but he did not sufficiently realize that Sue wrote, for the market, exciting tales that everybody rushed to read. His own books were, of course, most of them infinitely superior; but they appealed to a much smaller public. All the same, he was loth to resign himself to the depreciation Sue's bargains effected in his own.
Jude and the other two were getting tired and hungry, but after the conversation they had heard they were shy of going out while the purchasers were in their line of retreat. However, the later lots drew on, and it became necessary to emerge into the rain soon, to take on Sue's things to their temporary lodging.
Sue's voice broke the stillness: "How long are we going to stay here, Mardie?" "I don't know, Sue; I think perhaps as long as they'll let us." "Will Fardie come and see us?" "I don't expect him." "Who'll take care of Jack, Mardie?" "Your Aunt Louisa."
In the office he had ceased being the pushing upstart tramping on the toes of tradition and had become the son of Colonel Tom, the voter of Sue's big stock holdings, the practical, directing head and genius of the destinies of the company.
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