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"No. . . . No, it is not. . . . But I c-can't help it." "Oh, but you're going to help it, aren't you?" "I I hope so." He was silent; and presently she said: "I the reason of it my crying is b-b-because I don't wish you to be unhappy." "But, dear, dear little girl, I am not!" "Really?" "No, indeed! Why should I be? You do love me; don't you?" "You know I do." "But not in that way."
The third week in March was the week after town meeting! "M-may be c-can't tell," repeated Eben to himself, unconsciously imitating Jethro's stutter. "Godfrey, I'll hev to git that ticket straight from Amos." Yes, we may have our suspicions. But how can we get a bill on this evidence?
"Shober as a dudge," answered Ned. Gorman looked earnestly in his face for a few moments, and then began to talk to him in a continuous strain by way of testing him. "C'found these cabs an' b-busseses; a feller c-can't hear a word," said Ned. "Your lodgin's an't far off, are they?" "Close 't 'and," answered Ned. "Let's go to 'em," said Gorman.
Then suddenly Dick's companion ceased his exertions, and, with a groan, turned over on his back. He managed to stammer a question whether there were any boats at hand; and upon Dick replying in the negative the American gasped: "Then I'm d-d-done. C-cramp all over. C-can't s-swim 'nother s-stroke. G-good-bye!" "Good-bye be hanged!" shouted Dick, stirred to new life by his companion's extremity.
"Oh, where's my hanky?" With superhuman clemency he produced his own. "It'll serve you right if I'm ill," said Alice. "Come," said the Vicar in his wisdom and his patience. "Come." He proffered the disgusting cup again. "I'd drink it and have done with it, if I were you," said Mary in her soft voice. Mary's soft voice was too much for Alice. "Why c-can't you leave me alone?
"What do you mean? Better for what?" "The m-meeting." "What you mean to try and make him fight, do you?" "Of course try that way first. Give him a ch-chance, you know, c-can't shoot him down on s-sight." "Ah-h!" said Mr. Chichester, very slowly, "you can't shoot him on sight of course you can't. I see." "What? W-what d'ye see? Devilish dark hole in there!"
Once he stooped and picked up one of the trodden roses bruised by her slim foot; once, as she passed him, pacing absently the space between the door and him, he spoke her name. But: "Wait!" she breathed. "You have said everything. It is for me to reply if I speak at all. C-can't you wait for me?" "Have I angered you?" She halted, head high, superb in her slim, young beauty. "Do I look it?"
"C-can't you stay put for just a second? Or are you bent on leading us a dance through the woods?" He began to lose hope of its landing in his lap, that breezy athlete, as it made straight for the jaws of darkness now, the inky spruce-belt the parachute coquetting with its pursuers, like a great black fan. Was was it the wind then?
"Washington!" exclaimed Cynthia. "When?" "N-now to-morrow." Then he added uneasily, "C-can't you get ready?" Cynthia laughed. "Why, I'll go to-night, Uncle Jethro," she answered. "Well," he said admiringly, "you hain't one of them clutterin' females. We can get some finery for you in New York, Cynthy. D-don't want any of them town ladies to put you to shame.
William Wetherell, who was looking out of the window, drew his breath, and even Jethro drew back with an exclamation at the change wrought in her. But Cynthia snatched the roll from his hand and wound it up with a feminine deftness. "Wh-what's the matter, Cynthy?" "Oh, I can't wear that, Uncle Jethro," she said. "C-can't wear it! Why not?"
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