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Updated: May 20, 2025
Thomas Crofton's deepest chest tones. "Hear, hear!" Dr. Jefferson Craig's shout drowned out Mrs. Crofton's groan. "O Ches I'll come and keep house for you part of the year, anyhow!" This was dainty Rosalie, her silk-stockinged ankles swinging wildly, as she sat upon the porch rail.
Sprole, like many a self-made man, was proud of his farm, though he did not lead a wholly bucolic existence. "I can't, Ches," answered Ditmar. "I've got to go back to Hampton." This statement Mr. Sprole unwisely accepted as a fiction. He took hold of Ditmar's arm. "A lady eh what?" "I've got to go back to Hampton," repeated Ditmar, with a suggestion of truculence that took his friend aback.
He was thrown into companionship with men who perforce lived cleanly and naturally, and with Ches Mason, who was his friend. At meals he sometimes gave thought to Mrs. Kate, and frequently to Josephine.
Still, this is your projec' an' if you want to play the wheel one whirl, why I'll help stick up the stake." I was busy about the house all afternoon, an' Ches kept himself penned up in his labatory. He had brought out a lot of stuff in cans an' bottles, had turned the woodshed into what he called a labatory, an' spent a good part of his time there, mixin' up peculiar stenches.
'Recollect yourself. 'He followed us to-night, when we first came here! 'Yer lie, I didn't! replies Deputy, in his one form of polite contradiction. 'He has been prowling near us ever since! 'Yer lie, I haven't, returns Deputy. 'I'd only jist come out for my 'elth when I see you two a-coming out of the Kin-freederel. If I ket ches Im out ar ter ten!
In the West, not to say in every other locality, there is a time-honored joke about matrimony, for certain strenuous reasons, producing premature baldness. Ches grinned and removed his hat. Eight years had heightened his forehead perceptibly and thinned the hair on his temples. "You see what it's done to me," he pointed out lugubriously. "You ain't married yourself, I suppose?
His lips were set and there was an air of resolution as plainly visible on his small, freckled face as if it had been stamped there. Mrs. Elwell saw him flying around, and her grim features took on a still grimmer expression. "Ches is mighty lively tonight," she muttered. "I s'pose he's in a gog to be off on some foolishness with Henry Wilson. Well, he won't, and he needn't think it."
"The goat ain't done nothin'," sez he, "but he'll scare the Chink to death, an' when he comes out we can shoot him in the leg or something." "No," sez I, "it won't work. The Chink knows the goat better'n we do; an' it'll be the goat that'll come out an' get shot in the leg, while the Chink'll get away." "Oh, rats!" sez Ches. "He won't even know it's a goat. Can't you see that?"
They were significant, in a way, to a man with a tendency toward introspection; but Ford was interested in actualities and never stopped to wonder why he bought a pint, rather than a quart, or why, with Ches Mason in his mind, he declined to "set in" to the poker game which was running to tempting jackpots, the night before; or why he took one glass of wine before he mounted Rambler and let it go at that.
"That was my college yell," sez Ches, an' he gave it again, an' gee, but it would 'a' made an Injun's mouth water. I was beginnin' to see that the' was a heap more in a college edication than I'd ever supposed. Next day we searched the barn an' found her just soggy with stolen stuff. We started out the news an' most of it was claimed up by the neighbors for a hundred miles around.
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