United States or French Polynesia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Hyar hit is," replied Samson, who still carried his saddlebags. The painter's eyes twinkled, but the mirth was so frank and friendly that the boy, instead of glaring in defiance, grinned responsively. "Right, oh!" laughed Lescott. "I thought maybe you'd brought a trunk, but it's the wise man who travels light." "I reckon I'm pretty green," acknowledged the youth somewhat ruefully.
"Would it?" asked Samson, simply. He glanced at his watch. "Two minutes up," he announced. "The model will please resume the pose. By the way, may I drive with you to-morrow afternoon?" The next afternoon, Samson ran up the street steps of the Lescott house, and rang the bell, and a few moments later Adrienne appeared.
I was thinking how they withered under their drudgery and of the monstrous injustice of it all." Adrienne Lescott nodded. Her eyes were sweetly sympathetic. "It's the hardship of the conditions," she said, softly. "Those conditions will change." "But that's not all I was thinking," went on the boy. "I was watching you lift your coffee-cup awhile ago.
"I heered thet Tam'rack was in the jail-house, an' somebody hed ter go ter Hixon. So, of course, I knowed hit would be you." Lescott stayed on a week after that simply in deference to Samson's insistence. To leave at once might savor of flight under fire, but when the week was out the painter turned his horse's head toward town, and his train swept him back to the Bluegrass and the East.
Neither he nor Lescott noticed a man who crept down through the timber, and for a time watched them. The man's face wore a surly, contemptuous grin, and shortly it withdrew.
Don't tell her whar I'm a-goin'." He turned to the others. "I reckon I've got yore promise thet Mr. Lescott hain't a-goin' ter be bothered afore I gits back?" Wile McCager promptly gave the assurance. "I gives ye my hand on hit." "I seed Jim Asberry loafin' round jest beyond ther ridge, es I rid over hyar," volunteered the man who had brought the message. "Go slow now, Samson.
"It occurs to me, Wilfred," suggested Adrienne, with the hint of warning in her voice, "that you may be just a trifle overdoing your attitude of amusement as to this barbarian. George is fond of him, and believes in him, and George is quite often right in his judgment." "George," added Mrs. Lescott, "had a broken arm down there in the mountains, and these people were kind to him in many ways.
Political overlords, assailed as unfaithful servants, showed their teeth. From some hidden, but unfailing, source terribly sure and direct evidence of guilt was being gathered. For Wilfred Horton, who was demanding a day of reckoning and spending great sums of money to get it, there was a prospect of things doing. Adrienne Lescott was in Europe.
There was a low murmur of anger, and a voice cried out from the rear: "Let him go. We hain't got no use fer damn cowards." "Whoever said thet's a liar!" shouted the boy. Lescott, standing at his side, felt that the situation was more than parlous.
As he thoughtfully mixed himself a highball, they bombarded him with questions. "Why didn't you bring your barbarian with you?" demanded a dark-eyed girl, who looked very much as Lescott himself might have looked had he been a girl and very young and lovely. The painter always thought of his sister as the family's edition de luxe.
Word Of The Day