Bartlett

“ Miss Bartlett could not think. The days of her energy were over. She was a visitor, not a chaperon, and a discredited visitor at that. She stood with clasped hands while the girl worked herself into the necessary rage.
"He must—that man must have such a setting down that he won't forget. And who's to give it him? I can't tell mother now—owing to you. Nor Cecil, Charlotte, owing to you. I am caught up every way. I think I shall go mad. I have no one to help me. That's why I've sent for you. What's wanted is a man with a whip."
Miss Bartlett agreed: one wanted a man with a whip. ”

“ Bartlett.—"That you'll let me try to guess you out. I've failed so miserably in my own case, that I feel quite encouraged."
Constance, morbidly.—"I'm not worth the trouble of guessing out."
Bartlett.—"That means no. You always mean no by yes, because you can't bear to say no. That is the mark of a very deep and darkling nature. I feel that I could go on and read your mind perfectly, but I'm afraid to do it. Let's get back to myself. I can't allow that you've failed to read my mind aright; I think you were careless about it. Will you give your intuitions one more chance?" ”

“ For when he's made a point some pious dunce Like Bartlett of the Bulletin "replies." I brandish no iconoclastic fist, Nor enter the debate an atheist; But when they say there is a God I ask Why Bartlett, then, is suffered to exist. Even infidels that logic might resent, Saying: "There's no place for his punishment That's worse than earth." But humbly I submit That he would make a hell wherever sent.
MENDAX High Lord of Liars, Pickering, to thee Let meaner mortals bend the subject knee! Thine is mendacity's imperial crown, Alike by genius, action and renown. ”

“ Bartlett called me and he wants to bring us together and he says he thinks Mr. Bartlett would talk to me quite a lot when he really gets to know me and I forgive him for that time in Little Rock. Because it would be quite romantic for Mr. Bartlett and I to become friendly, and gentlemen who work for Uncle Sam generally like to become romantic with girls. So he is going to bring us together on the deck after dinner tonight and I am going to forgive him and talk with him quite a lot, because why should a girl hold a grudge against a gentleman who had to do it. ”

“ She nodded toward the yacht, steaming majestically around the headland, pennons gaily waving and the bright awning a splash of color in the afterglow.
"The Mary Gloucester," chuckled Bartlett. "That woman hasn't the sense of her ugly little poodle dog."
"I know," said Billy, "that is why I have always been so afraid of her."
"Why afraid of her?"
"For a mother," explained Billy unfortunately, but characteristically saying the wrong thing.
Bartlett flushed. "You just admitted that she was a fool. Do you think I would marry that kind of a woman?"
"Men always do," said Billy. ”

“ Constance.—"Then,"—with a glance at his devout posture, of which Bartlett has himself become quite unconscious,—"won't you sit down, Mr. Bartlett?"
Bartlett, restored to consciousness and confusion:—"Thanks; I think it will be better." He rises, and in his embarrassment draws a chair to the spot on which he has been kneeling, and sits down very close to her. He keeps the fan in his hand, as he talks: "It's rather nice out there, Miss Wyatt,—there on the island. You must be rowed out as soon as you can stand it. ”

“ And once more she replaced the napkins in the basket.
"Yes," agreed Bartlett. "There is a good hotel near the railroad tracks."
"Where are the railroad tracks?" asked the general, who had lost all faith in Bartlett's knowledge of the country. "We passed no railroad tracks."
"Just before you come to the village," retorted Bartlett, irritated as a badgered animal. "You have to cross them as you come up the main street."
"We crossed none," said the general, with the indifference of one who realizes that there is no more to hope for. The boat is sinking, let it sink. ”

“ The general, having dined to his satisfaction, was beaming with good humor and stories. Excusing himself a moment, Bartlett hurried to the telegraph station in the office. He hunted for his code, but could not find it and had to write the telegram in English. It would be safe enough. The operator was a raw country youth who wouldn't be able to understand it anyway, and it would go direct to his broker, who would be spending the day at his country place on Long Island.
"Have W.H.B.," wrote Bartlett. "Will take him for a week's tour in the country, with Billy's help. Eat them up." ”

“ See how the fellow rises at the right moment without leaving his saddle! no jumping or bumping there!" Mr. Bartlett came on at a staving pace, lifting his hat to the ladies with perfect grace as he passed. He would have blushed could he have felt a single ripple of the wave of admiration which flowed after him. Bertha alone was silent, more than ever provoked and disgusted that such a gallant outward embodiment of manhood should be connected with such disagreeable associations! Had he been any thing but a chiropodist! ”

“ Constance, with a little cry.—"Mr. Bartlett! Do look! Did you intend to trample my canvas and colours under foot?" She makes as if to stoop for them.
Bartlett, his manner undergoing a total change as if he had been suddenly recalled to himself at a critical moment.—"Don't!" He hastily picks them up, and puts the canvas on the easel and the colours on the table. With a glance at the canvas: "Ponkwasset doesn't seem to have been seriously injured by his violent usage. Shall you like to try your hand at him again to-morrow?" ”

“ There is a scuffling of heavy footsteps in the sand, and Captain Bartlett appears,{9} followed by Horne, who in turn is followed by Cates and Jimmy Kanaka. Bartlett is a tall, huge-framed figure of a man, dressed in a blue double-breasted coat, pants of the same material, and rubber sea-boots turned down from the knees. In spite of the ravages of hunger and thirst there is still a suggestion of immense strength in his heavy-muscled body. ”

“ Bartlett manage it? A faint percentage of beer, like foreign matter in analyses, is not alone enough to establish integrity. Nor a flavour of clothes.
The wall fell in the end, and Widow Thrale saw a light on the story, after expressing more admiration and sympathy for Mr. Bartlett than was human, under the circumstances. She was much impressed. "And by the mercy of God you were all saved, ma'am," said she. "Her young ladyship and little Dave, and his sister, and yourself!" ”

“ He was the most competent of Miss Bartlett's opponents, but infinitely the least dangerous. Once back in the town, he and his insight and his knowledge would trouble English ladies no more. Of course, it was most unpleasant; she had seen his black head in the bushes; he might make a tavern story out of it. But after all, what have we to do with taverns? Real menace belongs to the drawing-room. It was of drawing-room people that Miss Bartlett thought as she journeyed downwards towards the fading sun. Lucy sat beside her; Mr. Eager sat opposite, trying to catch her eye ”

“ Bartlett devoted to a thoughtful study of his companion. Under this close scrutiny the stranger moved restlessly. A sense of the other's physical health oppressed him; it seemed to take from his own slender stock of vitality.
“Hope I ain't crowding you,” said Mr. Bartlett. “Here, I'll make more room for you. Well sir, Benson's about the healthiest place I know of. When a man gets ready to die there, he has to move away to do it.”
“Who the hell's talking about dying?” demanded the stranger savagely. “There are plenty of graveyards where I came from.” ”

“ Mr. Bartlett, as having stated a falsehood, and perhaps said he was degraded, or something of that sort. It is very easy to say such things; but I do not recollect that he ever opposed a contradiction to the detailed conversation given by, or imputed to, Lieutenant Bartlett in this paper. It was only to the use of the words "monstrous injustice" that he objected. I believe it was with reference to that very expression used in the conversation with Lieutenant Bartlett, that he placed his quotation to the letter to Mr. Parker; but his veracity is equal to that of any gentleman. ”

“ Bartlett’s wife, who was the daughter of Sidney Willard, professor of Hebrew in Harvard University, and granddaughter of Joseph Willard, President of Harvard from 1781 to 1804. She inherited from such an ancestry the love of studious labor; and as they had no children, she and her husband could pursue it with the greatest regularity. [196] Both of them had also been great readers for many years, and there is still extant a manuscript book of John Bartlett’s which surpasses most books to be found in these days, for it contains the life-long record of his reading. ”

“ He's worked on our farm the past four years when he hasn't been going to school and, since Bartlett doesn't bar Freshmen from her varsity, I'm hoping he shows up well enough to make the team. He's big and strong but awkward and somewhat backward. You can do a lot for him, Cateye, if you will. He's never been any further than the little old home town, except the summer he visited me in the city, and the trip to Bartlett seems like a coast to coast journey to him. ”

“ Bartlett, again lifting his hat, and retracing his steps. For his life he could not have passed her and run the gauntlet of the faces of her friends upon the narrow path. Every soul of them would have instantly seen what a fool he was. Moreover, he had achieved enough for one day. The soldier who storms a perilous breach and finds himself alive on the inside of it could not be more astonished than he. "I blundered awfully," he thought; "but, after all, it's the one way to learn."—"Who's your friend, Bertha?" asked her brother, Dick Morris, the avant-guard of the party. ”

“ A BROKER PRINCE
"I am going," said Billy with determination.
"We can't leave the general alone," objected Bartlett.
"I don't see how I would be able to help the general any," returned Billy in injured accents.
"I thought you could push him in the car," explained Bartlett with gentle sarcasm.
"You all wait here," said the Watermelon. "I will go and get you something to eat and see about having the car towed, also about rooms for the night."
"Why not all go?" pleaded Henrietta. "Why wait here starving—"
"I can go faster alone," answered the Watermelon. ”

“ The latter, the son of a laundress, was a graceful and soldierly boy, dark-complexioned, with black eyes and hair, who bestrode his mule with easy confidence, riding like a Cossack. The other boy, a blond-haired, blue-eyed lad of the same age, quite as tall, but more delicately built, showed less reckless activity in the saddle, but he was a fine and graceful equestrian nevertheless. He had enlisted a year before, in Philadelphia, naming that city as his residence; but certain peculiarities of speech led Captain Bartlett to believe him a New-Englander. ”

“ Bartlett—Ye’ve your own work to do—good work. Attend to that and leave me to mine.
Nat—But you always wanted me to go on voyages to learn whaling with you.
Bartlett—This be different.
Nat— [With excited indignation.] Yes, this is different! Don’t I know it? Do you think you can hide that from me? It is different, and that’s why I want to go.{50}
Bartlett—Ye can’t, I say.
Nat— [Pleadingly.] But why not, Pa? I’m not a boy. I can do a man’s work on a ship, or anywhere else.
Bartlett— [Roughly.] Let’s have done with talk! Your place is here, with Sue and your Ma, and here you’ll stay. ”

“ Two people evidently took this view of her as she advanced into the workroom after hanging up her hat and coat.
“You’re late again, Bartlett,” snapped Miss Agatha Sugg, a forewoman, whose initials suggested an obvious nickname among the set of flippant girls she ruled with a severity that was also ungracious. “I’ll not speak to you any more on the matter. Next time you’ll be fired. See?”
Winifred’s high color fled before this dire threat. Even the few dollars a week she earned by binding books was essential to the up-keep of her home. ”

“ Mrs. Bartlett— [Seeming to shrivel up on her chair as she sees she has lost—weakly.] You be lost, Isaiah—no one can stop you.
Bartlett— [Triumphantly.] Aye, none’ll stop me. I’ll go my course alone. I’m glad ye see that, Sarah.
Mrs. Bartlett— [Feebly trying to get to her feet.] I’ll go to home.
Bartlett—Ye’ll stay, Sarah. Ye’ve had your say, and I’ve listened to ye; now I’ll have mine and ye listen to me. [Mrs. Bartlett sinks back in her chair exhaustedly. Bartlett continues slowly.] The schooner sails at dawn on the full tide. ”

“ Meanwhile old Henk traveled on, gaining in speed, for part of the road was on his way home and he coveted the flesh-pots of Egypt. The splashing of his feet in the mire kept time with the sob of the gale. Nearer and nearer drew the light in Jean Bartlett’s window. ”

“ Bartlett’s suggestion, the whist club to which he had been so faithful held one more meeting which he made out to attend. But though he could go out but little, he had a pleasant glimpse of the world that lay about his house,—the earliest and the best known world to him. ”

“ Mr. Bartlett really likes to make speeches quite a lot. I mean he even likes to make speeches when he is all alone with a girl when they are walking up and down a deck. But the maskerade ball was quite cute and one gentleman really looked almost like an imitation of Mr. Chaplin. So Dorothy and I really did not want to go to the ball but Mr. Bartlett bought us two scarfs at the little store which is on the ship so we tied them around our hips and everyone said we made quite a cute Carmen. So Mr. Bartlett and Major Falcon and the tennis champion were the Judges. So Dorothy and I won the prizes. ”