Frederic Harold

Seth's Brother's Wife: A Study of Life in the Greater New York


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       Harold Frederic

      Seth's Brother's Wife: A Study of Life in the Greater New York

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066151812

       SETH’S BROTHER’S WIFE.

       CHAPTER I.—THE HIRED FOLK.

       CHAPTER II.—THE STORY OF LEMUEL.

       CHAPTER III.—AUNT SABRINA.

       CHAPTER IV.—THE TWO YOUNG WOMEN.

       CHAPTER V.—THE FUNERAL.

       CHAPTER VI.—IN THE NAME OF THE FAMILY.

       CHAPTER VII.—THE THREE BROTHERS.

       CHAPTER VIII.—ALBERT’S PLANS.

       CHAPTER IX.—AT “M’TILDY’s” BEDSIDE.

       CHAPTER X.—THE FISHING PARTY.

       CHAPTER XI.—ON THE THRESHOLD OF THE WORLD.

       CHAPTER XII.—THE SANCTUM.

       CHAPTER XIII.—THIRTEEN MONTHS OF IT.

       CHAPTER XIV.—BACK ON THE FARM.

       CHAPTER XV.—MR. RICHARD ANSDELL.

       CHAPTER XVI.—DEAR ISABEL.

       CHAPTER XVII.—AN UPWARD LEAP.

       CHAPTER XVIII.—BOLTING THE TICKET.

       CHAPTER XIX.—THE WELCOME.

       CHAPTER XX.—THE NIGHT: THE BROTHERS.

       CHAPTER XXI.—THE NIGHT: MASTER AND MAN.

       CHAPTER XXII.—THE NIGHT: THE LOVERS.

       CHAPTER XXIII.—THE CONVENTION: THE BOSS.

       CHAPTER XXIV.—THE CONVENTION: THE NEWS.

       CHAPTER XXV.—“YOU THOUGHT I DID IT!”

       CHAPTER XXVI.—THE CORONER.

       CHAPTER XXVII.—ANNIE AND ISABEL.

       CHAPTER XXVIII.—BETWEEN THE BREAD-PAN AND THE CHURN.

       CHAPTER XXIX.—THE BOSS LOOKS INTO THE MATTER.

       CHAPTER XXX.—JOHN’S DELICATE MISSION.

       CHAPTER XXXI.—MILTON’S ASPIRATIONS.

       CHAPTER XXXII.—“A WICKED WOMAN!”

       CHAPTER XXXIII.—THE SHERIFF ASSISTS.

       CHAPTER XXXIV.—AT “M’TILDY’S” BEDSIDE AGAIN.

       CHAPTER XXXV.—“SUCH WOMEN ARE!”

       THE END.

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      Ef ther’ ain’t a flare-up in this haouse ’fore long, I miss my guess,” said Alvira, as she kneaded the pie-crust, and pulled it out between her floury fingers to measure its consistency. “Ole Sabriny’s got her back up this time to stay.”

      “Well, let ’em flare, says I. ’Taint none o’ aour business, Alviry.”

      “I knaow, Milton; but still it seems to me she might wait at least till th’ corpse was aout o’ th’ haouse.”

      “What’s thet got to dew with it?”

      The callousness of the question must have grated upon the hired-girl, for she made no reply, and slapped the dough over on the board with an impatient gesture.

      It was near the close of a fair day, late in May, and the reddened sunlight from the West would have helped to glorify any human being less hopelessly commonplace than Milton Squires as he sat in its full radiance on the doorstep, peeling and quartering apples over a pan which he held between his knees. This sunlight, to reach him, painted with warm tints many objects near at hand which it could not make picturesque. The three great barns, standing in the shadow to the south, were ricketty and ancient without being comely, and the glare only made their awkward outlines