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Updated: June 11, 2025
No such fortuitous circumstances would ever again throw him into the arms of a woman, not such a woman as Doris Cleveland. Hollister looked at her beside him, and his heart ached to think that presently she might not sit so with her hand on his knee, looking up at him with lips parted in a happy smile, gray eyes eager with anticipation under the long, curving, brown lashes.
Hollister was still sensitive about his face. He was doubly sensitive because he dreaded any comment upon his disfigurement reaching his wife's ears. He had succeeded so well in thus effacing himself that Myra seemed to regard him as if he were no more than a grotesque bit of furniture to which she had become accustomed.
The surgeon, with a few words and much quiet show of efficiency, knelt by him, heedless of these official busybodies. What hint he had of possible crime none could say. But they were like vultures. "Where's the fire department?" Warde Hollister ventured to ask a brother scout. At this point the surgeon with gentle deftness removed the victim's faded, threadbare coat, and threw it upon the ground.
"Young Mistuh Hollister I should say, Suh," says he. "Well, well!" says I, gawpin' at him. "You lookin' for Robin Hollister too? Why, so am I!" "Then we ought to find him between us, hadn't we?" says he, smilin' friendly. "Lott's my name, Suh." "Wha-a-at!" says I, grinnin' broad as the combination strikes me. "Not Uncle Noah Lott?"
He spoke of "family" and "breeding" as if these were sacred possessions which conferred upon those who had them complete immunity from the sort of effort that common men must make. "He really believes that," Myra said to Hollister once. "No Bland ever had to work. They have always had property they have always been superior people. Jim's an anachronism, really.
You may remember, Aggy, when I painted the sign of the bold dragoon for Captain Hollister there was that fellow, who was about town laying brick-dust on the houses, came one day and offered to mix what I call the streaky black, for the tail and mane; and then, because it looks like horse-hair, he tells everybody that the sign was painted by himself and Squire Jones.
"I shall be glad to spend my last single summer there." "And Tom and Harvey will practically be with us," said Ethel. "Nora, are you not a happy girl?" "I am," said Nora. "So am I," rejoined Ethel. Aunt Susan at once began to make plans. In the meanwhile Mr. Casey asked Mr. Hollister and his mother to give him a few moments conversation on business.
If she could love you without seeing you, if you appealed to her, why should your marred face make her turn away from you?" But Hollister could not explain his feeling, his deep dread of that which seemed no remote possibility but something inevitable and very near at hand. He did not want pity. He did not want to be merely endured.
Mattie had "given service" as well as laying down her life for a friend, and the whole town marvelled at her bravery. In November Kate was married. The wedding was quiet, as Patty was still an invalid. They took her with them and left her at Mrs. Hollister's while they went on their trip. Nora had arrived for the winter two weeks before. Mrs. Hollister had entered her in Madam La Rue's school.
For a space of perhaps five minutes Hollister stood gazing about him. Then he was reminded of his immediate necessities by the chill that crept over his feet, for several inches of snow overlaid the planked surface of the landing float.
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