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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Darrel of the Blessed Isles"

"Let us
go home."
"I'm going to be imperative," said he, "and you must answer before
I will let you go--"
"Dear Sidney," said she, "let's wait until we reach home. It's too
bad to spoil it here. But--" she whispered, looking about the
room, "you may kiss me once now."
"It's like a tale in _Harper's_," said he, presently. "It's 'to be
continued,' always, at the most exciting passage."
"I shall take the cars at one o'clock," said she, smiling. "But I
shall not allow you to go with me. You know the weird sisters."
"It would be impossible," said Trove. "I must get work somewhere;
my money is gone."
"Money!" said she, opening her purse. "I'm a Lady Bountiful.
Think of it--I've two hundred dollars here. Didn't you know Riley
Brooke cancelled the mortgage? Mother had saved this money for a
payment."
"Cancelled the mortgage!" said Trove.
"Yes, the dear old tinker repaired him, and now he's a new man.
I'll give you a job, Sidney."
"What to do?"
"Go and see the Governor, and then--and then you are to report to
me at Robin's Inn. Mind you, there's to be no delay, and I'll pay
you--let's see, I'll pay you a hundred dollars."
Trove began to laugh, and thought of this odd fulfilling of the
ancient promises.


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