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Joy in the Morning

Creator: Andrews, Mary Raymond Shipman, 1860-1936
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"Yes, sir," grinned Jackson, pleased with this young gentleman from a very poor neighborhood, who quite evidently was, all the same, "quality." "Are you," inquired Lance, "are you any relation to Aunt Basha?" Jackson, for all his efficiency a friendly soul, forgot the dignity of his livery and broke into chuckles. "Naw, sir; naw, sir. I dunno de lady, sir; I reckon I ain't, sir," answered Jackson. "All right, then, but it's the mistake of your life not to be. She's the best on earth. Wait till I brush my hair," said Lance, and did it. Inside three minutes he was in the big Pierce-Arrow, almost as unfamiliar, almost as delightful to him as to Aunt Basha, and speeding gloriously through the streets. The note had said that some kinspeople had just discovered him, and would he come straight to them for lunch. Mrs. Cabell and Eleanor crowded frankly to the window when the car stopped. "I can't wait to see David's boy," cried Mrs. Cabell, and Eleanor, wise of her generation, followed with:
The Celibates

INTRODUCTION _Les Celibataires_, the longest number of the original _Comedie Humaine_ under a single title, next to _Illusions perdues_, is not, like that book, connected by any unity of story. Indeed, the general bond of union is pretty weak; and though it is quite true that bachelors and old maids are the heroes and heroines of all three, it would be rather hard to establish any other bond of connection, and it is rather unlikely that any one unprompted would fix on this as a sufficient ground of partnership. Two at least of the component parts, however, are of very high excellence. I do not myself think that _Pierrette_, which opens the series, is quite the equal of its companions. Written, as it was, for Countess Anna de Hanska, Balzac's step-daughter of the future, while she was still very young, it partakes necessarily of the rather elaborate artificiality of all attempts to suit the young person, of French attempts in particular, and it may perhaps be said of Balzac's attempts most of all. It belongs, in a way, to the Arcis series--the series which also includes the fine _Tenebreuse Affaire_ and the unfinished _Depute d'Arcis_--but is not very closely connected
"Now, don't expect much; he may be deadly." And out of the limousine stepped, unconscious, the beautiful David, and handed Jackson a dollar. "Oh!" gasped Mrs. Cabell. "It was silly, but I love it," added Eleanor; and David limped swiftly up the steps, and one heard Ebenezer, the butler, opening the door with suspicious promptness. Everyone in the house knew, mysteriously, that uncommon things were doing. "Pendleton," spoke Mrs. Cabell, lying in wait for her son, the great doctor, as he came from his office at lunch time, "Pen, dear, let me tell you something extraordinary." She told, him, condensing as might be, and ended with; "And oh, Pen, he's the most adorable boy I ever saw. And so lonely and so poor and so plucky. Heartbroken because he's lame and can't serve. You'll cure him. Pen, dear, won't you, for his country?" The tall, tired man bent down and kissed his mother. "Mummy, I'm not God Almighty. But I'll do my damdest for anything you want. Show me the paragon." The paragon shot up, with the small unevenness which was his limp, and faced the big doctor on a level. The two pairs of eyes from their