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Well, stranger, we won't quarrel none over the payin', an' your frien' can pile in with me." Conniston turned, murmuring his thanks, to where Hapgood now was sitting up. And the red-headed man climbed down from his seat and began to unhitch his horses. "You needn't git your frien' up jest now in case he ain't finished his siesta. We won't move on until mornin'." "Where are you going to sleep?"
He removed his hat, disclosing a heavy crop of black hair. He had blue eyes and a strong, clean-shaven face. "For some time I have observed you and wondered how I was to realize my fondest hopes and make your acquaintance. All day you are in the office, where the two married men and the red-headed boy are always de trop. My employment is of a nature that takes me out nights.
The color ebbed from the face of the wife. One of her hands clutched at the back of a chair till the knuckles stood out white and bloodless. Her eyes fastened with a growing horror upon those of the red-headed man. She had come to the edge of an awful discovery. "You're no preacher. Who are you?" "Me?" His smile was cruel as death. "You done guessed it, sister. I'm Hugh Roush Dave's brother."
About the same time, the bottom seemed to fall out of our conversation, and neither one of us the less pleased. Whiles she would tell me old wives' tales, of which she had a wonderful variety, many of them from my friend red-headed Niel.
I think I have seen the individual a thick-set, red-headed, freckled nondescript. "What did you do it for?" I asked. "He wanted to make love to me," replied Carlotta. "He is a young scamp," said I. "What is a scamp?" she asked sweetly. "I am not giving you a lesson in philology," I remarked. "Do you know that you have been behaving in a shocking manner?" "Now you are cross with me."
In less than four minutes Patrolman Dennis Patrick Murphy, who was standing on post on Washington Street in front of Nasheen Zereik's Embroidery Bazaar talking to Sardi Babu, saw a red-headed, pug-nosed urchin come flying round the corner. "One two three four five. That's the house!" cried Willie Toothaker. "That's it!" "What yer talkin' 'bout?" drawled Murphy.
Her light, springing step, the lift of the throat and the fearlessness of the eye, the instinct in her for cleanliness of mind and body, carried him back forty years to the land of heather, to a memory of the laird's daughter whom he had worshiped with the hopeless adoration of a red-headed gillie.
"That Mickey Gaffney thinks he's smart," said Nellie Yarrow, who had found Brother and Sister in the crowd, as the red-headed boy dashed past them, waving his stick of tar wildly and shouting like an Indian. "Do you know him?" asked Sister. "Doesn't he ever wear shoes?" "I guess so I don't know. I don't like him," replied Nellie indifferently.
We stripped him of his arms and lay him down in the palm-leaves, quite dead. "Did that other rascal get away?" asked Riggs. "We'll have to wait a bit and see if we can't find him. But probably we better get to sea. Ye know where ye left the plugs and oars? That little red-headed chap can't do much harm, and if he gets away we'll find him some day.
To lend the touch of humor, which always lurks behind other people's tragedies, he held his top-hat by the brim in his right hand, as though he were taking a collection, while from his left, like a feather-duster, trailed an enormous bunch of roses. He was a short man in the late thirties, red-headed and inclined to be podgy.
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