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"Well, I'd been doin' a little business there among the folks, and had jist sot off for the river, mounted on Old Clay, arter takin' a glass of Ezra's most particular handsum Jamaiky, and was trottin' off pretty slick, when who should I run agin but Tim Bradley. He is a dreadful ugly, cross-grained critter, as you e'enamost ever seed, when he is about half-shaved.
Wilson saw this through the mist like a shadow picture and then he crossed the road. As he approached them both looked up, the girl wistfully, the officer with an air of bravado. Wilson faced the vigorous form in the helmet and rubber overcoat. "Well," growled the officer, "what you doin' round here?" "Am I doing anything wrong?" "That's wot I'm goneter find out.
It's awful late. Was it Tony you was talkin' to outside?" "No." "It warn't?" she turned a hawklike glance on her niece. "Who was it?" she asked inquisitively. "Mr. Howe." "Mr. Ho Not Martin Howe!" Lucy nodded. "Yes." "Martin Howe here on my land! What was he doin'?" "He wasn't on your land," Lucy said. "He left me at the gate. He was seeing me home. I've been there to supper." "What!"
"We're jest settin' round doin' nothin'. I'll finish with the breakfast things if you'll put to rights and dust, Phoebe. We can't make beds till night with the windows tight shut." These suggestions were followed by the two women, while Droop, picking up the newspaper which Rebecca had brought, sat down to read. After a long term of quiet reading, his attention was distracted by Rebecca's voice.
Occasionally, though less often, one of the doors at either flank of the house, also overwatched by shining orbs, opened to discharge an early departure. A midnight wayfarer, pausing opposite to contemplate this inexplicable grandeur in a dingy neighborhood, sought enlightenment from the passing patrolman: "Wot's doin'? Swell gamblin' joint? Huh?"
"'Wa'al, I says, 'I guess it's putty enough fur 's it goes, but the' don't seem to be much of anythin' to it. Hain't you got somethin' a little bit bigger an' "'Showier? she says. 'How is this? she says, doin' the same trick with another.
The record for this week proved an unusually favorable one; but he had more to add to this. "Miss Milly," he said, after she had expressed her pleasure at the progress he was making and at his standing in "conduct," "Miss Milly, I was real forgivin' an' like livin' up to the mark you sot us for doin' unto others, in school to-day.
Don Carlos is breakin' the law of the United States, an' doin' it on our property an' with our hosses. Hev I your permission, Miss Hammond?" "Why, assuredly you have! Stillwell, you know what to do. Alfred, what do you think best?" "It'll make trouble, Majesty, but it's got to be done," replied Alfred. "Here you have a crowd of Eastern friends due next month. We want the range to ourselves then.
He's not got her, nor her scalp, nor that knife nather now. I kept that much from doin' harm. I dunno where the cruel thing wint to, but it wint, all right. "And do ye mane to say, Philip Baronet, that ye thought I'd lost me nerve an' was crude enough to fall in wid a nest av thim Copperheads an' let 'em do me to me ruin?
I don't think she knew what she was doing, poor, poor child " Aunt Jamsiah broke down completely, crying in her handkerchief. So Uncle Eb finished what little there was to say. "We had to send fer 'em, Walter," said he. "She'll be better off there fer a spell, I reckon. I ain't so sure about her doin' it, though it looks bad. Least ways, she didn't know what she was doing. But don't you worry "
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