Main  Contacts  
Table of contents
Coming Home
Old Friends with New Faces
Miss Campbell
Thorns Among the Roses
Prince Charming
Polishing Mac
Phebe
Breakers Ahead
New Year's Calls
The Sad and Sober Part
Small Temptations
At Kitty's Ball
Both Sides
Aunt Clara's Plan
Alas for Charlie!
Good Works
Among the Haycocks
Which Was It?
Behind the Fountain
What Mac Did
How Phebe Earned Her Welcome
Short and Sweet

 

"There's a quencher for the 'star of the goodlie companie' to which 

I belong. Mac hasn't a ray of genius for anything, yet you admire 

him for trying to be an M.D.," cried Charlie, rather nettled at her 

words. 

 

"It is respectable, at all events, and I'd rather be a second-rate 

doctor than a second-rate actor. But I know you don't mean it, and 

only say so to frighten me." 

 

"Exactly. I always bring it up when anyone begins to lecture and it 

works wonders. Uncle Mac turns pale, the aunts hold up their 

hands in holy horror, and a general panic ensues. Then I 

magnanimously promise not to disgrace the family and in the first 

burst of gratitude the dear souls agree to everything I ask, so peace 

is restored and I go on my way rejoicing." 

 

"Just the way you used to threaten to run off to sea if your mother 

objected to any of your whims. You are not changed in that 

respect, though you are in others. You had great plans and projects 

once, Charlie, and now you seem to be contented with being a 

'jack of all trades and master of none'". 

 

"Boyish nonsense! Time has brought wisdom, and I don't see the 

sense of tying myself down to one particular thing and grinding 

away at it year after year. People of one idea get so deucedly 

narrow and tame, I've no patience with them. Culture is the thing, 

and the sort one gets by ranging over a wide field is the easiest to 

acquire, the handiest to have, and the most successful in the end. 

At any rate, it is the kind I like and the only kind I intend to bother 

myself about." 

 

With this declaration, Charlie smoothed his brow, clasped his 

hands over his head, and, leaning back, gently warbled the chorus 

of a college song as if it expressed his views of life better than he 

could: 

 

"While our rosy fillets shed 

Blushes o'er each fervid head, 

With many a cup and many a smile 

The festal moments we beguile." 

 

"Some of my saints here were people of one idea, and though they 

were not very successful from a worldly point of view while alive, 

they were loved and canonized when dead," said Rose, who had 

been turning over a pile of photographs on the table and just then 


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