Farwell

“ Glenn Farwell, Junior, newest member of the firm of Shepley and Farwell, attorneys, of Boston, was at the door.
Mr. Farwell was spruce and brisk and businesslike; also he was young, a fact which he tried to conceal by a rather feeble beard, and much professional dignity of manner and expression. Occasionally, in the heat of conversation, he forgot the dignity; the beard he never forgot. Shown into the Dott sitting-room by Azuba, who, as usual, had neglected to remove her kitchen apron, he bowed politely and inquired if he had the pleasure of addressing Captain and Mrs. Daniel Abner Dott. ”

“ He was ashamed to voice this feeling, for Farwell was his friend and had taught him all he knew, but Farwell's age did not in the least blind Jerry-Jo to the fact that he was a man, and he did not enjoy seeing Priscilla so free and easy with any other of the male sex, be he ancient enough to topple into the grave. ”

“ Farwell’s closed door, with its crucifying effect on one of its hearers, was Lewis’ last touch with Teresa and Petra. When he came out of Mrs. Farwell’s bedroom 21 into the living room, they were gone. In their stead, a new individual—younger than Mrs. Farwell, older than the girls—was lying in wait for him. She had usurped Petra’s place in the open blue window, but she quickly left it and came forward.
“I am Mrs. Tom Otis, Doctor Pryne. A friend of the Farwells. Mr. Farwell has commissioned me to see you in his place. He is at a critical point in the new novel, and if he leaves it, he’s lost. ”

“ Farwell. A passport tax and the fare to Earth are little enough to pay for a planet."
I didn't quite understand him, but that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that we were going home. Back to Earth. I could see Martha's face when I told her. I could see her tears of happiness....
There were tears on my own cheeks, but I wasn't ashamed of them now.
"Mr. Farwell," Duane said. "You go back home. The shuttle ship will be leaving in a few minutes."
"You mean that—" I started.
He nodded. "I'll get your tickets for you. On the first ship I can. Just leave it to me." ”

“ Mr. Dickett was head clerk by now, with an appreciable advance in salary; and Eleanor's wedding (it was in dressing the Roodscreen at Christmas that young Farwell met his fate) , with her sisters as bridemaids, marked a distinct stage in the family's social career. Old Mr. Farwell, who had long been nursing his only son's bank position, did the handsome thing for the young couple, and stomached, very decently, what must have been his regret at the boy's choice—for we all like our children to "look up and not down," as the motto suggests, in these matters. ”

“ Farwell, on the contrary, had led a quiet, industrious life, working hard in a broker's office in Wall Street, and making a comfortable income for himself, with which he managed to do just twice as many charitable acts as did his employer, a man whose fortune was estimated by millions. ”

“ Charles Farwell, called by Gladys Carleton "Cid," was a handsome man of thirty, with certain traits which distinguished him from the hundred or two young New Yorkers who were at that time infesting Newport.
He was of the pure Saxon type sometimes found among our people, with golden hair and beard, fair skin, and eyes of that intense blue which is only seen with people of vigorous temperament. His features were almost too delicate for a man, but his six feet of height and broad shoulders, his strong well-modelled arms and legs, saved him from the charge of a too feminine beauty. ”

“ Uncle Roddy and Dr. Farwell met them for luncheon, and then they heard the plan.
"It's Bob's idea," Uncle Roddy explained, "and here's the schedule. You," he was looking at Polly and Lois, "and Mrs. Farwell leave for Boston this afternoon. Bob will meet you and [Pg 60] take you to dinner, and to-morrow you'll go to the game. Harvard plays Princeton."
"That's hard on you, Lois," Dr. Farwell laughed; he never stopped teasing for one minute. ”

“ Farwell felt so much at peace with the world in general, and in especial with the man who had not lifted Gladys from her horse, that in a moment of expansiveness he asked Larkington to dine with him at the restaurant of the Casino. ”

“ What I can’t spend myself—spend beautifully, I mean—certainly belongs to the next person who needs it. And Marian, poor darling, is really and truly my next person. It’s as simple as that.”
But Mrs. Farwell, to Lewis’ mind, was neither mentally nor physically ill. She was a “happiness hound,” nothing else in the world, and he could not honestly prescribe Europe or a sanitarium as a cure for a deeply rooted perversion in human character. ”

“ Farwell, puzzled momentarily, endeavoured to remember what he had said.
"I guess I made another break. I wasn't thinking of you. Women don't have to get anywhere. Men do—that is, men who count. I've seen a lot of fellows in my own profession—smart, clever chaps—but, instead of buckling down to work, they were eternally running about having a good time. ”

“ When the negroes had had enough of it and were whimpering for mercy, she turned her attention to the foreman. But she didn't whip him. She said, her voice as calm as a May morning, 'Go and get your time, Johnson. I've no room on the place for a timid man!'"
Farwell's eyes were lit with enthusiasm, but to Channing the story had been oddly distasteful. "Faugh! What a woman! And yet I'll swear she's a lady," he said, with an odd thought of introducing Mrs. Kildare to his rigid family circle in the rôle of mother-in-law. ”

“ I thought we’d put her in the reception office with the telephone and the patients. She has a nice clear voice and nice manners. That will relieve you of the part you like least. Isn’t it so?”
Petra Farwell! That was the girl, the daughter of the novelist Lowell Farwell, about whom they had been speaking here in the office only a few days ago. A young architect, a Mr. Richard Wilder, had made an appointment for the sole purpose of asking Doctor Pryne to psychoanalyze the novelist’s daughter, and he had taken fifteen minutes or more of Doctor Pryne’s time doing it. ”

“ You will look in this evening, Hangon, about eleven o'clock?"
The mighty parasite nodded a reply, lifted his hat, and with a sigh of relief at the two hours of liberty granted him, walked off in the opposite direction. Farvvell and Hewson drove up the long wide avenue past the empty houses with closed blinds.
"How utterly desolate the city looks! People are coming back later and later every season." Farwell was the speaker. ”

“ Farwell tell her who some of these people were? Nothing charmed Mr. Farwell so much as simplicity—when it was combined with personal attractions. He did not say so, but contrived to intimate the former.
“It's always difficult when one first comes to New York,” he declared, “but it soon straightens itself out, and one is surprised at how few people there are, after all. We'll begin on Cecil's right. That's Mrs. George Grenfell.”
“Oh, yes,” said Honora, looking at a tall, thin woman of middle age who wore a tiara, and whose throat was covered with jewels. Honora did not imply that Mrs. ”

“ I'm sorry it occurred, but we are not to blame."
"Without arguing that point," said Casey, "I warn you that we won't stand this sort of thing."
"If you fellows will keep off our lands there will be no trouble," Farwell responded. "We don't want you, and we won't have you. If you come on business, of course, that's different. Otherwise keep away. Also we don't want your stock grazing on our property."
"We may as well have an understanding while we're about it," said Casey. "The next man who pulls a gun on me—this Lewis, or anybody else—will have to beat me to the shooting. ”

“ Cid he had always been called by the Carletons, who all really loved him, when they had time to think about it, and he stood to them somewhat in the relation of the "property man" in the company of a theatre, the person to be called on at all times, for all necessities.
At first Farwell had been sure of Gladys ”

“ FARWELL, Sir GEORGE (1845–1915) , judge, was born at Codsall, Staffordshire, 22 December 1845, the second son of Frederick Cooper Farwell, of Tettenhall, Staffordshire, agent of the Duke of Cleveland, by his wife, Louisa Whitbread, daughter of Admiral Sir Frederick Michell, K.C.B. Farwell was educated at Rugby School under Dr. ”

“ Suppose he should decide to take the city and win the library for himself, so that he can read all the books at his leisure. What then?
"Mother," said Harold, "I believe Red Rex has no joy in reading for himself; no more than you have,--though he may not have your excuse."
"La la!" cried the mother. "What a King is that who has no key to the treasury of books! You are richer than he, my son. With all his armies, you are more powerful than he, my dear son!"
On the Sunday, after dinner, Harold's friends escorted him to the gate; and as before he went to the Red King under the flag of truce. ”

“ Harold looked at Red Rex mischievously.
"Nay," said the Red King hastily. "You must not betray me. This tale must not become common history. No one will understand my point of view. I begin to think that no one will see my bravery in making this attempt. So few persons are open-minded and generous! You will not tell your City Fathers, Harold? Noblesse oblige, remember. You are my guest, and I have told you a tale in return for yours. I could detain you by force, breaking the truce yet once more. ”

“ Harold's chums Robert and Richard were so excited they could not sleep that night. Harold's mother was as proud as a peacock when he told the story to her; though it was with some dread that she looked forward to his return on the morrow into the camp of the fierce besieger. But Harold said:--
"I shall be quite safe, Mother. Never fear! Red Rex is too much interested in my story to hurt me. When he forgets war he is a different man. He is almost pleasant, Mother!" ”

“ Harold shuddered, but he was firm. "What a pity!" he said. "You really should know our Librarian. And there are still many fine books which Your Majesty ought to hear. You will never know them if they be destroyed now; their duplicates exist nowhere."
"There are none so good as the tale you have just finished, I warrant!" cried Red Rex.
"Oh, many far better than that, Your Majesty!" said Harold. "Indeed, that is one of the least important.--Did you ever hear of the Wonder-Garden, Your Majesty?"
"The Wonder-Garden!" echoed the Red King; "no, that I never did. What means a 'wonder-garden,' boy?" ”

“ The Librarian became his fast friend. He liked to come to the little cottage better than anywhere else in the world, except to his own library. But at the library he in turn was host, and Harold became his guest. And he showed Harold many wonderful things in that library of which no one but the Librarian knew the existence,--strange histories, forgotten chronicles, wonder-tales. Gradually Harold became almost as well acquainted with the books as was the Librarian himself; though, of course, he did not at first understand them all. Nothing happens all at once. ”

“ Our noble Librarian, who is general of a mighty army of books, must have rules as stern and strict to keep his army useful and efficient. If Your Majesty desires the rest of the tale you must wait until to-morrow."
"I will destroy the whole town first!" roared the angry King.
"Then you will never learn the end of the tale," retorted Harold.
It looked as if Harold were in great danger, in spite of the flag of truce. Red Rex stormed and ranted, and his soldiers stood ready with their weapons to do whatever he should bid them. ”

“ XI. HOPE
"Dear me!" said Red Rex, when Harold had finished this story. "I never saw one of those lion-dolls which your tale mentions. I would that I had one to present to my little girl."
"Have you a little girl?" exclaimed Harold in surprise. "Why, I had no idea that you were the father of little children."
"Well, why not?" asked the Red King crossly. "I have a dear little girl of seven, and her name is Hope."
"Oh, if you have a dear little girl of your own, how can you make war on a city where other dear little girls live?" cried Harold. "I cannot understand!" ”

“ But I did not take the risk."
"I know such a Book!" interrupted Harold; "a Book of Peace."
"I guess what you mean," said the Red King hastily. "We have that Book in my kingdom, too, of course. We honor it highly,--do not think otherwise! We have it in the churches, and bind it in gold, and keep it as something curious and old. But we do not often read it--why should we? A peace book has no message for our brave and warlike people. To think so is absurd!"
"Oh!" said Harold.
"Well," continued Red Rex; "after a long, long time the streets were quite empty. ”

“ What was this creature risen in youth and beauty from the ashes? A bird like the Eagle in shape, but nobler, larger, stronger, more gracious even than the King of Birds, a brilliant vision of crimson and gold, rose like a flame from the nest, hung for a moment above the palm, looking eagerly at the Sun, which baptized him in its splendor. A new Phœnix lived in the world. Once more the ancient glory was renewed. Once more youth, joy, and hope sprang from the Phœnix's ashes and rejoiced in the centuries of sunshine before him. Death was indeed worth dying to make this life worth living! ”

“ For there is something magic about the pies that a mother makes in her own kitchen which no factory can imitate.
At this factory Red Rex left a large sum of money to pay for Kingspies which should be given to any hungry man who asked; particularly if he asked at midnight,--which seemed, indeed, a strange condition! But Harold understood why the Red King did this thing. And Harold never told any one,--not even Robert and Richard.
One day they all went to visit what had been Gerda's Wonder-Garden, by the sea. ”