I had been obliged
to send to Boston for a few of the latest novels, fresh ribbons, cologne
water, and various other articles indispensable to the career of a truly
devoted propagandist. I preferred my request no longer as the dependent
offspring seeking gifts from a fond and indulgent parent, but as the
solicitor of a mere temporary loan, until I should be able to draw on my
salary at the close of the term.
One morning, having inured myself to extreme worldliness of soul and
begun a deliberately reckless response to the fisherman's letter, I
looked out through my window to see the Cradlebow trudging manfully down
the lane, with a grotesquely antiquated portmanteau in his hand, and the
general air of one who has started a-foot on a journey.
With a singular readiness to be diverted, I found that the picture was,
somehow, not conducive to further worldliness of meditation; and when in
the evening, Mrs. Cradlebow came in to call, in her mantilla, the
impression thus made on my mind was inexpressibly deepened.
Mrs. Cradlebow was not a frequent caller. She had almost earned among the
Wallencampers the direful anathema of "not being neighborly.
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