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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Darrel of the Blessed Isles"


"A detective."
Then a quick movement of chairs and a pulling of yarn. Ruth
dropped a spool of thread which rattled, as it fell, and rolled a
space and lay neglected.
The sister Serene was now laughing.
"It's ridiculous!" she remarked.
"Go on," said the others, and one of them added, "Land sakes! don't
stop now."
"Well, she got sick the other day and sent for a lawyer, an' who do
you suppose it was?"
"I dunno," said Ruth Tole. The words had broken away from her, and
she covered her mouth, quickly, and began to look out of the
window. The speaker had begun to laugh again.
"'Twas Dick Roberts," she went on. "He went over to the tavern;
she lay there in bed and had a nurse in the room with her--a woman
she got in Ogdensburg. She tells the young lawyer she wants him to
make her will. Then she describes her property and he puts it
down. There was a palace in Wales and a castle on the Rhine and
pearls and diamonds and fifty thousand pounds in a foreign bank,
and I don't know what all. Well, ye know, she was pert and
handsome, and he began to take notice."
The sisters looked from one to another and gave up to gleeful
smiles, but Ruth was, if anything, a bit firmer than before.


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