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Updated: June 25, 2025
Tisdale swung his chair a little towards the open rear door, so that he was able to watch without seeming to see the progress of the comedy. He was quick enough to catch the sweeping look she gave the intruder, aloof yet fearless, as though she saw him across an invisible barrier. "You mean you are a reporter," she asked quietly, "and are writing an account of the accident for your newspaper?"
"How you, who are the one to censure her the most, can speak for her always, as you do. But there you are like Weatherbee. It was his way to take the losing side; champion the absent." "And there is where your resemblance stops," she answered quickly. "He lacked your streak of iron. Of course you know about your strange likeness to him, Mr. Tisdale. It is so very marked; almost a dual personality.
And the woman had been right in her reasoning, for a night of tears and grief, of shame and humiliation left Essie Tisdale with weakened courage, mentally and physically spent.
It was one of those nights when the stars come close and friendly, and the camp-fire blazes and crackles straight to heaven and sets a man thinking; and Tisdale started it by saying if he could cut one record out of his past he guessed the rest could bear daylight. Then Dave told him he was ready to stand by that one, too.
Tisdale's will, which was drawn shortly after his return from Alaska, last year, and while he was dangerously ill in Washington, proves how far it was from his intention to defraud the widow of David Weatherbee." Here Mr. Bromley read the clause. Tisdale, standing at ease, with his hand resting on his chair, glanced from the attorney to Foster.
The mining man replied: "No, that's the railroad boss over there with the gang handling the derrick; this is Tisdale, Hollis Tisdale of Alaska and Washington, D.C. You ought to have heard of him in your line of business if you never happened to see him before." Then Jimmie, turning to look more directly at the stranger, hastily dropped his face.
"Here is a story of Western life that I believe will be of interest to you. The incident actually occurred. The man who killed the Indian child, and who amused my brother's guests with the story while we were cruising lately on the Aquila, was Hollis Tisdale of the Geographical Survey. He is probably the best known figure in Alaska, the owner of the fabulously rich Aurora mine.
Do you think I'd trouble myself for anything they might say or do to me?" Her eyes widened "You don't mean because of " "You? Exactly. Aren't we friends the best of friends Essie Tisdale?" The quick tears filled her eyes. "Sometimes," she answered chokingly, "I think you are my only friend." She continued, "And that's the reason I want you to be careful. Don't resent anything on my account "
"Gussie has improved wonderful," replied Mrs. Jackson pacifically. "Improved! If you call goin' around passin' of them up that she's knowed well 'improved' why then she has improved wonderful. Snip!" "I don't think she really aimed to pass you up." "I wasn't thinkin' of myself," replied Mrs. Tutts hotly, "I was thinking of Essie Tisdale.
Van Lennop did not smile, instead he shook his head gravely. "No, Essie Tisdale, I can't just see you in any such setting as that." "Why not? I've seen it happen to others." "But," he spoke decisively, "you're different." "Yes," she cried with a vehemence which sent the color flying under her fair skin, "I am different! If I wasn't I wouldn't mind.
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