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Five riders in unison eagerly offered their services and looked as if each had spoken first. Then Macomber addressed her: "Miss Lucy, you see this here sorrel?" "Ah! the same lazy crowd and the same old story a horse trade!" laughed Lucy. "There's a little difference of opinion," said Macomber, politely indicating the riders. "Now, Miss Lucy, we-all know you're a judge of a hoss.
Walton was very friendly toward the boys, and for that reason he had a strong hold on the affections of many little fellows. "Well, Miss Macomber, I am glad to see you out, and as for my boy here, I should miss him ever so much if he were not in my school." "I should miss you, if you wasn't there," replied Charlie, anxious to return the compliment.
"Wal, durned if some of you fellers ain't kind an' complimentary," remarked Macomber, scratching his head. "But then every feller can't have hoss sense." Then, looking up to see Lucy Bostil coming along the road, he brightened as if with inspiration. Lucy was at home among them, and the shy eyes of the younger riders, especially Van, were nothing if not revealing.
<b>MACOMBER, MARY L.</b> Bronze medal, Massachusetts Charitable Mechanics' Association, 1895; bronze medal, Cotton State and International Exposition, 1895; Dodge prize, National Academy, New York, 1897; honorable mention, Carnegie Institute, 1901. Member of the Copley Society, Boston. Born in Fall River, Massachusetts, 1861.
"Holley, shake hands with Slone, hoss-wrangler out of Utah.... You, too, Cal Blinn.... An' Macomber an' Wetherby, meet my friend here young Slone.... An', Cordts, shake hands with a feller thet owns a grand hoss!" Bostil laughed as he introduced the horse-thief to Slone. The others laughed, too, even Cordts joining in.
He quietly stole back to his desk and there abruptly shouted, "Macomber, you may read about the 'Miller' at once." The shot struck. Charlie bounded up in great confusion, his month full of corn-ball! "Hold, Macomber!" said the master, in a very sarcastic way.
No one had ever suspected it of her in the least degree up to that time. Of course it was too late after she was once seen off her horse. Them that didn't see was told in full detail by them that did. Most of the others was luckier. Beryl Mae Macomber in her sport shirt and trouserettes complained constantly about the odious wretches along Main Street and Fourth, where the post office was.
Macomber did likewise and gravely and deliberately clipped the end in the mechanical clipper on the counter, lighted it, and took a few ruminative puffs, gazing at the ceiling. Then he and Joe walked slowly to the street. "Women fly off the handle," he ventured at length without looking at Joe. "You mustn't mind what the old lady says." "She misunderstood," said Joe.
She had decided on conflict. "A man's got no right to take up a girl's time unless he means right by her. Just because a girl's good lookin' 's no sign she's a play-thing for any Tom, Dick, or Harry comes along." Joe was stunned by the baldness of the statement. "But, Mrs. Macomber," he managed to stammer, "I didn't know that's the way Myrtle Miss Macomber felt about it. I'm awfully sorry "
Of course the elderberry wine was by way of giving plumb out after the second half-lighted hour, but others come forward with cherished offerings. Mrs. Dr. Percy Hailey Martingale brought round some currant wine that had been laid down in her cellar over a year ago, and Beryl Mae Macomber pilfered a quart of homemade cherry brandy that her aunt had been saving against sickness, and even Mrs.
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