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Updated: June 23, 2025
Another time something was said about the fickleness of women. Mrs. Embury began it. I fired up, of course. He seemed astonished at my attack. "I said nothing," he declared. "No, but you looked a good many things. Now the fact is, women are not fickle. When they lose what they value most, they find it impossible to re place it.
"A silver offering for the Old Ladies' Home, eh? Well, tell 'em to come to me and I'll sign their subscription paper! Now, good-by, Dolly Gray! I'm off!" With a hearty kiss on Eunice's red lips, and a gay wave of his hand to Aunt Abby, Embury went away and Ferdinand closed the door behind him.
"Because the natural formation of most people's noses allows them to see straight down beneath an ordinary bandage. I doubt if one child out of a hundred who plays 'Blind Man's Buff' is really unable to see at all." "That's so," said Embury, "when I played it, as a kid, I could always see straight down though not, of course, laterally." "And noses are different," went on Hanlon.
In spite of herself Sylvia had one glimpse of horribly lacerated red tissues.... She gripped her hands together after this and looked fixedly at a button on her glove, until Miss Lindström's voice announced: "It's the Embury stitch that makes that possible: we've just worked out the application of it to skin-graft cases. Two years ago she'd have lost her leg. Isn't it simply splendid!"
Embury asked the question I had not dared to ask. "Is the poor child in danger?" "I cannot say; I trust not. Miss Mortimer's presence of mind in extinguishing the flames at once, has, I hope, saved its life." "It was not my presence of mind, it was Lucy's!" I cried, eagerly.
However, children are often left to much younger girls, so, with many cautions, I went down, resolving to stay only a few moments. But I wanted so much to know all about that pretty little friend of Dr. E.'s that I let Mrs. Embury stay on and on, though not a ray of light did I get for my pains At last I heard Lucy's step coming downstairs.
Though friendly through all this campaign, the strain was beginning to tell on the two candidates, and both Embury and Hendricks found it a little difficult to keep up their good feeling. "But," they both reasoned, "as soon as the election is over, we'll be all right again. We're both too good sports to hold rancor, or to feel any jealousy." And this was true.
"She's right!" declared Aunt Abby. "I can't see, doctor, why it is necessary to have a postmortem. I don't approve of such things. Surely you can, somehow discover what Mr. Embury died of and if not, what matter? He's dead, and nothing can change that! It doesn't seem to me that we have to know " "Pardon me, Miss Ames, it is necessary that I should know the cause of the death.
I'll grant just about two per cent of real stuff in this talk of telepathy and thought-transference, and even that is mostly getting a letter the very day you were thinking about the writer!" Embury laughed. "That's as close as I've ever come to it," he said. "Yep, that's the commonest stunt. That and the ghostly good-by appearance of a friend that's dyin' at the time in a distant land."
While the great revival was stirring the heart of England, a small band of German "Palatines" which Methodism had redeemed from demoralization in Ireland, emigrated to New York, among whom was Philip Embury, and these were followed by Barbara Heck and her friends, through whose efforts Methodism found a secure place in America.
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