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The Good Comrade   By: (1872-1955)

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First Page:

[Illustration: "'Tell me,' she said, 'did you ever really do anything foolish in your life?'"]

The Good Comrade

By

UNA L. SILBERRAD

Illustrated by Anna Whelan Betts

New York Doubleday, Page & Company 1907

COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY DOUBLEDAY PAGE & COMPANY PUBLISHED, SEPTEMBER, 1907

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. THE POLKINGTONS

II. THE DEBT

III. NARCISSUS TRIANDRUS AZUREUM

IV. THE OWNER OF THE BLUE DAFFODIL

V. THE EXCURSION

VI. DEBTOR AND CREDITOR

VII. HOW JULIA DID NOT GET THE BLUE DAFFODIL

VIII. POOFERCHJES AND JEALOUSY

IX. THE HOLIDAY

X. TO MORROW

XI. A REPRIEVE

XII. THE YOUNG COOK

XIII. THE HEIRESS

XIV. THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN

XV. THE GOOD COMRADE

XVI. THE SIMPLE LIFE

XVII. NARCISSUS TRIANDRUS STRIATUM, THE GOOD COMRADE

XVIII. BEHIND THE CHOPPING BLOCK

XIX. CAPTAIN POLKINGTON

XX. THE BENEFACTOR

XXI. THE GOING OF THE GOOD COMRADE

XXII. THE LINE OF LEAST RESISTANCE

XXIII. PAYMENT AND RECEIPT

ILLUSTRATIONS

"'Tell me,' she said, 'did you ever really do anything foolish in your life?'" Frontispiece

"Julia"

"A wonderful woman"

"'Now you must call your flower a name,' he said"

THE GOOD COMRADE

CHAPTER I

THE POLKINGTONS

The Polkingtons were of those people who do not dine. They lunched, though few besides Johnny Gillat, who did not count, had been invited to share that meal with them. They took tea, the daintiest, pleasantest, most charming of teas, as the élite of Marbridge knew; everybody or, rather, a selection of everybody, had had tea with them one time or another. After that there was no record; the élite , who would as soon have thought of going without their heads as without their dinner, concluded they dined, because they were "one of us." But some humbler folk were of opinion that they only dined once a week, and that after morning service on Sundays; but even this idea was dispelled when the eldest Miss Polkington was heard to excuse her non appearance at an organ recital because "lunch was always so late on Sunday."

Let it not be imagined from this that the Polkingtons were common people they were not; they were extremely well connected; indeed, their connections were one of the two striking features about them, the other was their handicap, Captain Polkington, late of the th Bengal Lancers. He was well connected, though not quite so much so as his wife; still well, but he was not very presentable. If only he had been dead he would have been a valuable asset, but living, he was decidedly rather a drawback; there are some relatives like this. Mrs. Polkington bore up under it valiantly; in fact, they all did so well that in time they, or at least she and two of her three daughters, came almost to believe some of the legends they told of the Captain.

The Polkingtons lived at No. 27 East Street, which, as all who know Marbridge are aware, is a very good street in which to live. The house was rather small, but the drawing room was good, with two beautiful Queen Anne windows, and a white door with six panels. The rest of the house did not matter. On the whole the drawing room did not so very much matter, because visitors seldom went into it when the Miss Polkingtons were not there; and when they were, no one but a jealous woman would have noticed that the furniture was rather slight, and there were no flowers except those in obvious places.

There was only one Miss Polkington in the drawing room that wintry afternoon Julia, the middle one of the three, the only one who could not fill even a larger room to the complete obliteration of furniture and fitments. Julia was not pretty, therefore she was seldom to be found in the drawing room alone; she knew better than to attempt to occupy that stage by herself... Continue reading book >>




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