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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Wa'al, I tried all the tricks I knowed an' I could lead him but when I was in the buggy he wouldn't stir till he got good an' ready; 'n' then he'd start of his own accord an' go on a spell, an' " "Did he keep it up?" Mrs. Bixbee interrupted. "Wa'al, I s'd say he did. I finely got home with the critter, but I thought one time I'd either hev to lead him or spend the night on the East road.
Bixbee at first looked a little askance at the wine on the table, but she does not object to it now. Being a "son o' temp'rence," she has never been induced to taste any champagne, but on one occasion she was persuaded to take the smallest sip of claret. "Wa'al," she remarked with a wry face, "I guess the' can't be much sin or danger 'n drinkin' anythin' 't tastes the way that does." She and Mrs.
"I was never more comfortable in my life," said John. "Mrs. Bixbee has been kindness itself, and even permits me to smoke in the room. Let me give you a cigar." "Heh! You got putty well 'round Polly, I reckon," said David, looking around the room as he lighted the cigar, "an' I'm glad you're comf'table I reckon 't is a shade better 'n the Eagle," he remarked, with his characteristic chuckle.
Bixbee was grand in black silk and lace collar fastened with a shell-cameo pin not quite as large as a saucer, and John caught the sparkle of a diamond on her plump left hand David's Christmas gift with regard to which she had spoken apologetically to Mrs.
"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee with a twinkle, "I reckon Dave might hev to be fixed up some afore he come out in that pertic'ler shape, but," she added impressively, "es fur as bein' a man goes, he's 'bout 's good 's they make 'em. I know folks thinks he's a hard bargainer, an' close-fisted, an' some on 'em that ain't fit to lick up his tracks says more'n that.
I ast him if they knowed who I was, an' he said one on 'em ast him, an' he told him. The feller said to him, seein' me drive up: 'That's a putty likely-lookin' hoss. Who's drivin' him? An' he says to the feller: 'That's Dave Harum, f'm over to Homeville. He's a great feller fer hosses, he says." "Dave," said Mrs. Bixbee, "them chaps jest laid fer ye, didn't they?"
I swan! 'fore I got home I reckoned I'd jest as good as made seventy-five anyway." "Then the' wa'n't nothin' the matter with him, after all," commented Mrs. Bixbee in rather a disappointed tone. "The meanest thing top of the earth was the matter with him," declared David, "but I didn't find it out till the next afternoon, an' then I found it out good.
"An' didn't ye suspicion nuthin' when he took ye up like that?" asked Mrs. Bixbee. "I did smell woolen some," said David, "but I had the hoss an' they had the money, an', as fur 's I c'd see, the critter was all right. Howsomever, I says to 'em: 'This here's all right, fur 's it's gone, but you've talked putty strong 'bout this hoss. I don't know who you fellers be, but I c'n find out, I says.
Cullom, jumped and cried out. "David Harum," declared his sister with conviction, "I believe thet that's a bottle of champagne." "If it ain't," said David, pouring into his tumbler, "I ben swindled out o' four shillin'," and he passed the bottle to John, who held it up tentatively, looking at Mrs. Bixbee. "No, thank ye," she said with a little toss of the head, "I'm a son o' temp'rence.
There's that story about 'Lish, over to Whitcom you heard somethin' about that, didn't ye?" "Yes," admitted the widow, "I heard somethin' of it, I s'pose." "Wa'al," said Mrs. Bixbee, "you never heard the hull story, ner anybody else really, but I'm goin' to tell it to ye " "Yes," said Mrs. Cullom assentingly. Mrs.
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