Geoffrey Strong

Geoffrey Strong

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Title: Geoffrey Strong
Author: Laura E. Richards
Release Date: September, 2005 [EBook #8877] [This file was first
posted on August 19, 2003]
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Language: English

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GEOFFREY STRONG
By
Laura E. Richards
Author of
"Captain January," "Melody," "Marie," etc.

TO Richard Sullivan, KINDEST OF UNCLES, FRIENDS, AND
CRITICS, THIS STORY IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I. THE TEMPLE OF VESTA
II. THE YOUNG DOCTOR
III. GARDEN FANCIES
IV. MOSTLY PROFESSIONAL
V. LETTER-WRITING AND HYSTERICS
VI. INFORMATION
VII. FESTIVITY
VIII. REVELATION
IX. SIDE LIGHTS
X. OVER THE WAY

XI. BROKEN BONES
XII. CONVALESCENCE
XIII. RECOVERY

ILLUSTRATIONS.
He paddled on in silence
The young doctor glancing around saw all these things.
He stood looking at her, his hand still on the hammock rope.
"There he comes, full chisel!" cried Ithuriel Butters.

CHAPTER I
.
THE TEMPLE OF VESTA
"That's a pleasant looking house," said the young doctor. "What's the
matter with my getting taken in there?"
The old doctor checked his horse, and looked at the house with a smile.
"Nothing in the world," he said, "except the small fact that they
wouldn't take you."
"Why not?" asked the young man, vivaciously. "Too rich? too proud?
too young? too old? what's the matter with them?"
The old doctor laughed outright this time. "You young firebrand!" he
said. "Do you think you are going to take this village by storm? That
house is the Temple of Vesta. It is inhabited by the Vestal Virgins, who
tend the sacred fire, and do other things beside. You might as well ask
to be taken into the meeting-house to board."
"This is more attractive than the meetinghouse," said the young doctor.
"This is one of the most attractive houses I ever saw."
He looked at it earnestly, and as they drove along the elm-shaded street,
he turned in his seat to look at it again.
It certainly was an attractive house. Its front of bright clean red brick
was perhaps too near the street; but the garden, whose tall lilac and
syringa bushes waved over the top of the high wall, must, he thought,
run back some way, and from the west windows there must be a

glorious sea-view.
The house looked both genteel and benevolent. The white stone steps
and window-sills and the white fan over the door gave a certain effect
of clean linen that was singularly pleasing. The young doctor, unlike
Doctor Johnson, had a passion for clean linen. The knocker, too, was of
the graceful long oval shape he liked, and burnished to the last point of
perfection, and the shining windows were so placed as to give an air of
cheerful interrogation to the whole.
"I like that house!" said the young doctor again. "Tell me about the
people!"
Again the old doctor laughed. "I tell you they are the Vestal Virgins!"
he repeated. "There are two of them, Miss Phoebe and Miss Vesta
Blyth. Miss Phoebe is as good as gold, but something of a man-hater.
She doesn't think much of the sex in general, but she is a good friend of
mine, and she'll be good to you for my sake. Miss Vesta"--the young
doctor, who was observant, noted a slight change in his hearty
voice--"Vesta Blyth is a saint."
"What kind of saint? invalid? bedridden? blind?"
"No, no, no! saints don't all have to be bedridden. Vesta is a--you might
call her Saint Placidia. Her life has been shadowed. She was once
engaged--to a very worthy young man--thirty years ago. The day before
the wedding he was drowned; sailboat capsized in a squall, just in the
bay here. Since then she keeps a light burning in the back hall, looking
over the water. That's why I call