Page:A strange, sad comedy (IA strangesadcomedy00seawiala).pdf/39

Rh "One of the Popes," he remarked, with suave sarcasm, "who started in life as a cobbler, took for his papal arms a set of cobblers' tools. But I perceive no indication whatever, in this community of retired tradespeople, that they have not all inherited their wealth since the days of the Saxon Heptarchy."

For a time it seemed as if not one single person at Newport had ever heard of Colonel Archibald Corbin, of Corbin Hall. But one afternoon, as Letty and her grandfather were taking a dignified promenade,—they could not afford to drive at Newport,—they noticed a stylish dogcart approaching, with a hale, manly fellow, neither particularly young nor especially handsome, handling the ribbons. Just as he caught sight of the Colonel he pulled up, and in another moment he had thrown the reins to the statuesque person who sat on the back seat, and was advancing toward the old man, hat in hand.

"This must be Colonel Corbin. I can't be mistaken," he cried, in a cordial, rich voice.

Letty took in at a glance how well set up he was, how fresh and wholesome and manly.

"It is Colonel Corbin," replied the Colonel, with stately affability.