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Wilson, Harry Leon, 1867-1939

"The Boss of Little Arcady"


I wondered wildly then if her fashion of speech for Clem might not mask
some real affection for him. But this was unsatisfying. On the spot I
gave up all wondering forever about Miss Caroline. I have ever since
constrained myself to accept her without question, even in situations of
difficulty. There is so much vain knowledge.
That day, too, was the bad day when news came that Little Miss had been
stricken with the same dread pneumonia. When she told me this, Miss
Caroline had a look in her eyes that I suspect must often have been
there in the first half of the sixties. It was calm enough, but there
was a resistance in it that promised to be unbreakable. And to my
never-ending wonder she seemed still to be more concerned about Clem
than about her daughter.
"Will you go to her?" I asked.
She smiled. "That could hardly be afforded just now."
"You could manage it, I think. Clem has some money due from me."
"Even so, I couldn't leave Clem. My daughter will be cared for, but Clem
wouldn't have anybody. We'll fight it out on this line, Major."
I now saw that continuous questioning about Miss Caroline would bring
one in time to madness, and I was glad of my resolve never again to
indulge in this unprofitable occupation.


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