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He's actually got a dinner jacket, and Consadine's got a starched shirt. I noticed he wore moccasins just the same. How do you like MY outfit?" He moved his shoulders about as if preening himself for Joy's approval. "It looks as if you'd grown stout since you came over the Pass," she laughed. "Wrong. Guess again." "It's somebody else's." "You win.
Miss Sessions turned hastily to the window and looked out, apparently to observe whether her brother was ready to leave or not. Johnnie Consadine's letters her letters.
Whirling his horse and digging in the spurs, he rattled pell-mell down the opposite steep toward Cottonville, shouting as he went. "They've done got him they've found him! Miss Johnnie Consadine's a-bringin' him down in his own cyar!" At the Hardwick place, where the front lawn sloped down with its close-trimmed, green-velvet sward, stood two horses.
To him certain pieces of music always meant certain people, and the Serenade could bring him nothing but Johnnie Consadine's face. His startled eyes encountered with distaste the cap pinned to her hair, descended to the white apron that covered her black skirt, and rested in astonishment on the tray that held the coffee, cream and sugar.
What he would earn in the factory she knew well blows, curses, evil knowledge. "If they should go to the Victory, I'd be mighty proud to do all I could to look after 'em, Johnnie," spoke Mandy from the shadows, where she sat on the floor at Laurella Consadine's feet, working away with a shoe-brush and cloth at the cleaning and polishing of the little woman's tan footwear.
The woman in the bed she was scarcely more than a girl, with shining dark eyes and a profusion of jetty ringlets about her elfish, pretty little face seemed to feel that this speech was in the nature of a reproach. She hastened to detail her further activities on behalf of the newcomer. "Consadine's a poor provider," she said plaintively, alluding to her absent husband.
He's actually got a dinner jacket, and Consadine's got a starched shirt. I noticed he wore moccasins just the same. How do you like MY outfit?" He moved his shoulders about as if preening himself for Joy's approval. "It looks as if you'd grown stout since you came over the Pass," she laughed. "Wrong. Guess again." "It's somebody else's." "You win.
When you get them fixed the way I want them, I tell you they'll be fine." The next afternoon saw Shade Buckheath in the spooling room, watching the operation of Johnnie Consadine's simple device for notifying the frame-tender if a thread fouled or broke. "Let me take 'em all down to the basement," he said finally when he had studied them from every point of view for fifteen minutes.
She had danced with Conroy twice already he ought to be more considerate than to bring the girl into notice that way a chump like Charlie Conroy, what would he understand of such a nature as Johnnie Consadine's? Before he fully realized his own intentions, he had paused in front of the two and was speaking. "I think Miss Johnnie promised me a dance this evening.
Then she took up her journey, comforted and strangely elated. "Looks like it was waiting right there to tell me howdy," she murmured to herself. The keynote of Johnnie Consadine's character was aspiration.
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