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Sam'd sure be sore if he knew I was runnin' her like this. Why don't we beat it up to the cabin and get the girl and let them mosey along by themselves?" "Because we don't know that's where they've taken her," said Scott, angrily. He concluded that Merriam had guessed right.
Milly Amos used to say that when she died she wanted a hot biscuit carved on her tombstone; and that if it wasn't for hot biscuits, there'd be a mighty small crop of widowers. Sam, you see, was another man that couldn't eat cold bread. But Sam had a right to his hot biscuits; for if Milly didn't feel like goin' into the kitchen, Sam'd go out and mix up his biscuits and bake 'em himself.
"Papa could take her with him for a drive to North Sutherland to see the Provosts. Then Sam'd come straight on to the Sinclairs'." "I'll call up your father." "No!" cried Ruth, stamping her foot. "Call up Mr. Provost, and tell him papa's coming. Then you can talk with papa when he gets home to dinner." "But maybe " "If that doesn't work out we can do something else this afternoon."
The mother and the daughter avoided each other's eyes. Both felt mean and small, guilty toward Susan; but neither was for that reason disposed to draw back. As Mrs. Warham was trying the new dress on her daughter, she said: "Anyhow, Sam'd be wasting time on Susan. He'd hang round her for no good. She'd simply get talked about.
Sam'd killed chickens the night before, says she, 'and they was all dressed and ready, down in the spring-house; and the vegetables was right there on the back porch, but I never touched 'em, says she.
"So, then," the resourceful boy continued, "f'r instance, if you give this ole horn to me, that'd prove it was yours, and Sam'd haf to say it was, and he wouldn't have any right to " "I won't do it!" said Roddy sourly. "I don't want to give you that horn. What I want to give you anything at all for?" Penrod sighed, as if the task of reaching Roddy's mind with reason were too heavy for him.
"But horses has a heap o' sense, child; and it looked to me like the horse knew he had Sam Amos, one o' the best riders in the county, on his back and he was jest playin' a little joke on him. "Well, of course when the judges seen that Sam'd lost control of his horse, they called the Simpson man up and tied the blue ribbon on him.
'Why, says Uncle Jim, 'there's a dozen or more good-lookin' saddle-horses out yonder outside the big gate, and you can have your pick. So Sam started off, and the next thing him and the man from Simpson was trottin' around the ring. Us Goshen people kind o' kept together when we set down in the amp'itheater. Every time Sam'd go past us, we'd all holler 'hurrah! for him.
And so the hammers and trowels were heard again; and old Brattle would sit perfectly silent, gazing at the men as they worked. Once, as he saw two men and a boy shifting a ladder, he turned round, with a little chuckle to his wife, and said, "Sam'd 'a see'd hisself d d, afore he'd 'a asked another chap to help him with such a job as that." As Mrs. Brattle told Mrs.
Fortunately I am not thus obliged to compromise my dignity. The two are at pause. "Gimme a cigarette 'nd I'll tell you," bargains Tracey shrewdly. "Lew Parker told me after Sam'd gone." The deal is put through promptly. "He was telegraphin' to Got a match?" For once I am in sympathy with Roland, whose tone betrays his desire to wring Tracey's exasperating neck.
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