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Gertrude returned for a short time, and then went to the city for the winter. Burt's orbit was hard to calculate. He was much in New York, and often with Mr. Hargrove, from whom he was receiving instructions in regard to his Western expedition.
"You can't point to a single thing I've done." "I ain't got fingers enough," Uncle Bill said dryly, "and my toes is under cover. It's prob'ly slipped your mind that I was down in south'rn Oregon when you left between two suns; but tain't that" his old eyes gleamed "it's what you done last winter goin' down there deliberate to jump Bruce Burt's claim." "Ss-sh!" Mr.
I don't think I will sit up nights to read your manuscript, however. If Burt's version had been true, it might have been quite exciting." She did enjoy aiding Mr. and Mrs. Clifford in overhauling the seed-chest, however.
If this were true, she was sure the event of the preceding day must develop and deepen it greatly. And now Burt's manner, his fits of absent-mindedness, during which he stared at vacancy, awakened surmises also. "Where are his thoughts?" she queried, and she resolved to find out.
It was disappointing to Sprudell nothing like the Western plays at tragic moments; no long handshakes and heart-breaking speeches of farewell from the "rough diamonds." "S' long," said Uncle Bill. He polished a place on the window-pane with his elbow and watched Burt's struggle with the cold and wind and snow begin. "Pure grit, that feller," when, working like a snowplow, Bruce had disappeared.
Holmes says, is "the dreadful sound that nothing which breathes can hear unmoved." Miss Hargrove was looking down upon it, stupefied, paralyzed with terror. Already the reptile was coiling its thick body for the deadly stroke, when Burt's stock fell upon its neck and laid it writhing at the girl's feet.
"Well, how would Jem Burt's place suit you, Archer?" asked the fat man. "You knows it just a mile and a half 'tother side Warwick, by the crick side? I guess it will have to be sold anyhow next April; leastways the old man's dead, and the heirs want the estate settled up like." "Suit me!" cried Harry, "by George! it's just the thing, if I recollect it rightly. But how much land is there?"
Dill hissed, not in resentment but in alarm as he glanced over his shoulder. "That's Burt's father." From the corner of his mouth "I think he's got money." Money! The word acted like a strychnia tablet upon Ore City's retarded circulation. Money! Warmth returned to its extremities. It looked at the object of these hopeful suspicions as though its many heads swung on a single neck.
Hargrove, from his library window, saw Burt's formal parting, and concluded that his fears or hopes he scarcely knew which were uppermost, so deep was his love for his daughter, and so painful would it be to see her unhappy were not to be fulfilled.
The old people and Leonard believed that Amy was not pleased with the idea of Burt's going away, but they felt that she was a little unreasonable, since the young fellow was rather to be commended for wishing to take life more seriously. But her words rankled in Burt's mind. He felt that she understood him better than the others, and that he was not winning respect from her.
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