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Who's at the desk to see them Duluth folks off? Pap's not going to be pleased with you." "I don't want any breakfast," muttered Dickie. Amelia laughed. "No. I'll be bound you don't. Tongue like a kitten and a head like a cracked stove!" She slapped down some clean sheets on a shelf and creaked toward the hall, but stopped at the open door.
I got under the table and raised the blanket, and went to work to saw a section of the big bottom log out big enough to let me through. Well, it was a good long job, but I was getting towards the end of it when I heard pap's gun in the woods. I got rid of the signs of my work, and dropped the blanket and hid my saw, and pretty soon pap come in.
In the moist pink palm lay three dollars, a fifty-cent piece, and a dime. Never had Pap's voice sounded so harsh in my ears as when he said: "Do I understan' that ye offer this to me?" His tone frightened her. "Yas, sir. Won't you p-p-please t-take it?" "Did yer folks tell ye to give me this money?" "Why, no. I'd oughter hev asked 'em, I s'pose, but I never thought o' that. Honest Injun, Mr.
He was quite sure that the old man was lying, and upon his ingenuous countenance such knowledge, illuminated by admiration and amazement, was duly inscribed. "Pap's yarn is too thin," said a gaunt Missourian. "It's thin as you air," said Ransom contemptuously. "Do you boys think that I'd spring so thin a tale on ye, if it wasn't true?" At this they wriggled uneasily.
Their wording was informal, often strictly local. One granted privilege of purchase of, "The piney trees on Pap's and mine but not Henny's for nineteen years." Another bore, above the date, "In this year of Jesus Christ's holy redemption." The sales made to Valentine Simmons were, invariably, formal in record, the signatures were all witnessed. It was a slow, fatiguing process.
An' pap, he knows er man over in Gardner what's on the railroad, you see, what'll let him have money enough for the trip, a licker-man, he is, an' pap's aimin' ter make hit over ter Gardner ter git the money in time ter ketch that there early mornin' train. Hit's a right smart way over the mountains, but I reckon's how pap'll make hit.
She tugged at a corner of the pillow, fumbled thereunder with her little brown hand, and dragging out Pap Himes's bankbook, showed it to her daughter, opening at that front page where Pap's clumsy characters made Laurella Himes free of all his savings. "You go right along, Johnnie, and see cain't you help about Mr. Stoddard.
"And won't they hurt pap's cow-critters, neither?" "No, indeed. It was all a mistake." "I I didn't know there was no war goin' on," remarked the lad, as he sent an intelligent dog he had with him after the straying animals. "Me an' pap we lives away over yonder on t'other side of the mountain. An' we don't never hear no news. I was plum skeered when I seen all them ossifers.
Maude's got dopey on him. She's plumb stuck on him. The dame Pap's spilt thousands on has gone back on him for a fool boy she was there to roll. Things are seething under the surface, and it's the sort of atmosphere Pap mostly lives in. He's crazy mad. And when Pap's crazy, things are going to happen. There's just one end coming. Only one end.
Lysander, having taken refuge behind the assertion that it "wasn't becomin' fer the fam'ly to take sides," bore his mother-in-law's stinging sarcasms in virtuous silence. "Seems to me it depends on which side you take," sneered the old woman. "I don't see anything so very impullite in gettin' mad when yer pap's shot down like a dog." Lysander braced himself judicially.
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