The Good Comrade

Una L. Silberrad
The Good Comrade

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Title: The Good Comrade
Author: Una L. Silberrad
Illustrator: Anna Whelan Betts
Release Date: March 27, 2006 [EBook #18060]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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COMRADE ***

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[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 CREDIT
OR
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. But it was now almost seven o'clock, too late for any
one to come; also, since there was no light but the fire, deficiencies
were not noticeable. She felt secure of interruption, and stood with one
foot on the fender, looking earnestly into the fire.
That day had been an important one to the
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