The Good Comrade 
 
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Good Comrade, by Una L. 
Silberrad This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and 
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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 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOOD 
COMRADE *** 
 
Produced by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online 
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net 
 
[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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