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Concerning Sally   By: (1863-1926)

Concerning Sally by William John Hopkins

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Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has been preserved. This e book has stuttering dialect. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For a complete list, please see the end of this document.

By William John Hopkins

CONCERNING SALLY. THE INDIAN BOOK. Illustrated. THE MEDDLINGS OF EVE. OLD HARBOR. THE CLAMMER.

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON AND NEW YORK

CONCERNING SALLY

CONCERNING SALLY

BY

WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS

[Illustration]

BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY The Riverside Press Cambridge 1912

COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Published September 1912

BOOK I

CONCERNING SALLY

CHAPTER I

Professor Ladue sat at his desk, in his own room, looking out of the window. What he might have seen out of that window was enough, one would think, to make any man contented with his lot, especially a man of the ability of Professor Ladue. He had almost attained to eminence in his own line, which, it is to be presumed, is all that any of us can hope to attain to each in his own line.

Out of Professor Ladue's window there might have been seen, first, a huge tree, the leaves upon which were fast turning from the deep green of late summer to a deep copper brown with spots of brilliant yellow. If his eyes were weary of resting in the shadow of that great tree, his gaze might go farther and fare no worse: to other trees, not too thickly massed, each in the process of turning its own particular color and each of them attaining to eminence in its own line without perceptible effort; to the little river which serenely pursued its winding and untroubled course; or to the distant hills.

But Professor Ladue, it is to be feared, saw none of these things. He was unconscious of the vista before his eyes. A slight smile was on his handsome face, but the smile was not altogether a pleasant one. He withdrew his gaze and glanced distastefully about the room: at the small bundle of papers on his desk, representing his work; at the skull which adorned the desk top; at the half mounted skeleton of some small reptile of a prehistoric age lying between the windows; at his bed. It was an inoffensive bed; merely a narrow cot, tucked out of the way as completely as might be. Professor Ladue did not care for luxury, at any rate not in beds, so long as they were comfortable, and the bed took up very little room, which was important.

As his glance took in these things, a slight expression of disgust took the place of the smile, for a moment; then the smile returned. All expressions in which Professor Ladue indulged were slight. There was nothing the matter with him. He was only tired of work temporarily sick of the sight of it; which is not an unusual state of mind, for any of us. It may be deplored or it may be regarded as merely the normal state of rebellion of a healthy mind at too much work. That depends largely upon where we draw the line. We might not all draw it where Professor Ladue drew it. And he did not deplore the state of mind in which he found himself. It was a state of mind in which he was finding himself with growing frequency, and when he was in it his sole wish was to be diverted.

He opened a drawer in his desk, dumped therein the papers, and, removing from it a box of cigarettes, took one and slipped the box into his pocket... Continue reading book >>




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