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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Your father says it's very unusual for such a young man to be in a place like his. Mr. Witherby really leaves everything to him, he says." "Well, I think he'd better not, then! The Events has got to be perfectly horrid, of late. It's full of murders and all uncleanness." "That seems to be the way with the papers, nowadays. Your father hears that the Events is making money." "Why, mother!
I shall always have a high regard for your ability, and and your social qualities." While he made these expressions he hastened to write two checks. Bartley, who had paid no attention to what Witherby was saying, came up and took the checks. "This is all right," he said of one. But looking at the other, he added, "Fifteen hundred dollars? Where is the dividend?"
"I should wish to pay you whatever the work was worth," said Witherby, not to be outdone in nobleness. "All right; we sha'n't quarrel about that, at any rate." Bartley was getting toward the door, for he was eager to be gone now to Marcia, but Witherby followed him up as if willing to detain him. "My wife," he said, "knows Miss Kingsbury. They have been on the same charities together."
"Have you any idea who wrote this?" "Oh, yes, I wrote it." Witherby had the task before him of transmuting an expression of rather low cunning into one of wounded confidence, mingled with high-minded surprise. "I thought it had your ear-marks, Mr. Hubbard: but I preferred not to believe it till I heard the fact from your own lips. I supposed that our contract covered such contributions as this."
Do you know the family?" asked Bartley. "Yes, we have met them in society. I hope you're pleasantly situated where you are, Mr. Hubbard? Should be glad to have you call at the house." "Thank you," said Bartley, "my wife will be glad to have Mrs. Witherby call." "Oh!" cried Witherby. "I didn't know you were married! That's good! There's nothing like marriage, Mr.
In sending him out to Vancouver Austin had all the unalloyed, pure pleasure of self-sacrifice. They talked of Dick and Dick's birthday and Dick's happiness most of the way to Witherby. The telegram despatched, prepaid with the porterage by Viviette, Austin felt that he had done his duty by his brother, and deserved some consideration on his own account.
We are independent journalists; and this way of treating the thing leaves us perfectly free hereafter to claim, just as we choose, that we were in fun or in earnest on any particular question if we're ever attacked. See?" "I see," said Witherby, with not wholly subdued misgiving.
When Ricker left him Bartley hesitated. He was half minded to go home and wait for Witherby to look him up, as the most dignified and perhaps the most prudent course. But he was curious and impatient, and he was afraid of letting the chance, whatever it might be, slip through his fingers.
But the fact is, our list is so large already, that we can't extend it, just now; we can't " Bartley smiled. "I don't want any exchange, Mr. Witherby. I'm out of the Free Press." "Ah!" said the city journalist, with relief. He added, in a leading tone: "Then " "I've come to offer you an article, an account of lumbering in our State. It's a little sketch that I've prepared from what I saw in Mr.
"He still keeps me in the background, and plays at being editor, but he pays me pretty well." "Not too well, I hope." "I should like to see him try it." "I shouldn't," said Ricker. "He'd expect certain things of you, if he did. You'll have to look out for Witherby." "You mean that he's a scamp?" "No; there isn't a better conscience than Witherby carries in the whole city. He's perfectly honest.
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