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He stopped suddenly, pulled his faded black Stetson over one eye, and then stepped out again, singing on: They ain't no water and they ain't no shade: They ain't no beer or lemonade, But I reckon most like we'll make the grade Git along, cayuse, git along. "That's the stuff!" laughed Bartley. "A stanza or two of that every few miles, and we'll make the grade all right.
"Plase your Reverence," said Bartley, "she came in to Mary, and she alone in the house, and for the matther o' that, I believe she laid hands upon her, and tossed and tumbled the crathur, and she but a sickly woman, through the four corners of the house. Not that Mary lets an so much, for she's afeard; but I know from her way, when she spakes about her, that it's thruth, your Reverence."
Ever since I came back from Belgium I have seen that the preliminaries of courtship were over, and you two looked on yourselves as one." "Mr. Hope," said this good, arch girl, and left off panting, "you are a terrible man. Papa is eyes and no eyes. You frighten me; but not very much, for you would not watch me so closely if you did not love me a little." "Not a little, Miss Bartley."
Tha's place, there's where I stayed. His son's my frien', damn stuck-up, supercilious beast he is, too! I do' care f'r him! I'll show you place, so's't you'll know it when you come to it, 'f I can ever find it." They walked up and down the street, looking, while Bartley poured his sorrows into the ear of his friend, who grew less and less responsive, and at last ceased from his side altogether.
Long Lon drilled on, wrapped in his reflections. Their moving shadows shortened. Occasionally a staring-eyed cow strayed directly in their way and stood until Long Lon struck his chaps with his quirt, when the cow, swinging its head, would whirl and bounce off to one side, stiff-legged and ridiculous. Bartley unbuttoned his shirt-collar and pushed back his hat.
Mary winced. Then Bartley said, sternly, "Who was your companion?" "I must not say." "You will say one thing," said Bartley, "or I shall have no mercy on you. Are you secretly married?" Then a single word flashed across Mary's almost distracted mind SELF-SACRIFICE. She held her tongue. "Can't you speak? Are you a wife?" He now began to speak so loud in his anger that everybody heard it.
He felt that he knew pretty much what she demanded in people and what she demanded from life, and he wondered how she squared Bartley. After ten years she must know him; and however one took him, however much one admired him, one had to admit that he simply wouldn't square. He was a natural force, certainly, but beyond that, Wilson felt, he was not anything very really or for very long at a time.
Bartley, her husband, having entered somewhat sooner than his three daughters from milking, was the first to come in; presently the girls followed, and in a few minutes they sat down to supper, together with the servants, who dropped in one by one, after the toil of the day. On placing themselves about the table, Bartley, as usual, took his seat at the head; but Mrs.
But in this horrible accident both gangs of workers were confined to a small area and small cages, and the stuff had to be sent up to the surface. Bartley, who seemed to live only to rescue the sufferers by his own fault, provided miles of rope, and had small cages knocked together, so that the débris was continually coming up from both the shafts, and one great source of delay was averted.
"There's Dorry, now," said Aunt Jane, glancing through the kitchen window. Bartley promptly excused himself and stepped out to the gate, which he vaulted and opened as Dorothy waved a greeting. Bartley carried the groceries in, and later helped unhitch the team. They chatted casually neither referring to the subject uppermost in their minds.
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