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Updated: June 13, 2025
They won't enjoy tramping over to Cottonton for kerosene and molasses." The store was lighted by kerosene lamps resting on brackets. It was Mr. Strout's custom to take them down, blow them out, and replace them on the brackets. One was always left burning, as Mr. Strout said "so burglars could see their way round." Mr.
And "Cottonton," led by a white-faced girl and a big, apoplectic turfman, were forgetting dignity, decorum, and conventionality as hand in hand they stormed through the surging eruption of humanity fighting to get a chance at little Billy Garrison's hand.
If I owned this store outright there'd be a big sign up somewhere 'When you've transacted your business, think of Home Sweet Home." "I reckon that's a hint," said Benoni Hill, as he arose and put on his hat. "You won't be troubled with me or my trade in futur'. There are stores in Cottonton jus' as good as this, and the proprietors are gentlemen."
"I'm tired hearing about him," said Strout. "Can't you give us something new?" "Yes, I kin," said Abner. "Boys, I've got something funny to tell you. I went to Cottonton this afternoon and I'd jest got back when they sent me for the sugar." "What ye doin' over there?" asked Benoni. Abner scratched his head then winked at Benoni.
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