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Updated: June 25, 2025
My mind's been a-thinkin' on him night an' day. Oh, is he dead?" "By smoke! Hokey-pokey! an' Pangymonum, too!" the long, lean, excited fellow whispered, with the greatest solemnity. "They're Jimmy Phoebus's daily words, dear Cyrus. He was killed on the river night before last; I saw him fall; it is my sin and misery." "He ain't dead," Cy James whispered, very low and carefully.
Unlike that one, however, in this instance it is safe to say that none, not even the adoring and praise-chanting Miss Phinney, derived quite the enjoyment from the congressman's speech that Captain Cy did. It tickled his sense of humor.
Cyrus stiffened; but before he could answer he discovered that Wiley had asked the question, not for information, but as a mere introduction to a recital of his own plans. "We're doin' great things," announced the man. "Sam an' Jennie an' the hull kit on 'em's comin' home an' bring all the chicks. Tell ye what, Cy, we <i>be</i> a-Thanksgivin' this year!
The Nickerson mansion was crowded and there were music and dancing. Young Cy was miserable during the dancing. He didn't dare attempt it, in spite of his lessons in the barn. So, while the rest of his boy friends sought partners for the "Portland Fancy" and "Hull's Victory" he sat forlorn in a corner. As he sat there he was approached by a young lady, radiant in muslin and ribbons.
What's the stuff goes into that, Cy?" "'Material, batiste, trimmed with embroidered batiste. What in time is batiste?" "I don't know. Do you, Bailey?" "No; never heard of it. Ketury never had nothin' like that, I'm sure. French, I shouldn't wonder. Well, Ketury's down on the French ever sence she read about Napoleon leavin' his fust wife to take up with another woman. Does it say any more?"
Before they sat down to the meal Captain Cy insisted that his guest take a tablespoonful of the sarsaparilla and decorate her throat with a section of red flannel soaked in the 'Arabian Balsam. The perfume of the latter was penetrating and might have interfered with a less healthy appetite than that of Miss Thomas. "Have some soup? Some I bought purpose for you.
They might stray for miles over the plains before he could leave Natalie long enough to round them up. But there was no help for it; the beasts would all die of starvation, if he attempted to keep them in his camp. There was a little grass between the willows and the timber; and he determined to keep old Cy picketed nearby, to be sure of one mount in the case of an emergency.
There, by the center table, sat Phoebe Dawes, her elbow on the arm of her chair, and her head resting on her hand. "Ahem! Phoebe!" said Captain Cy. She started, turned, and saw him standing there. Her eyes were wet, and there was a handkerchief in her lap. "Phoebe," said the captain anxiously, "have you been cryin'?" She rose on the instant. A great wave of red swept over her face.
She herself had said one or two things on that occasion. Captain Cy remembered them distinctly. "Yes, yes," he said hastily. "Well, my doin's that time wasn't exactly the best sample of the care, I will say. Wan't even a fair sample, maybe. I try to do my best with the child, long as she stays with me, and er and er I'm pretty particular about her health." "I'm glad to hear it." "Yes.
I'll take an extra lot of shoes from Cy Robinson; he can think Belinda's goin' to bind she never has or he can think what he wants to; I ain't goin' to regulate his thinkin'; an' you come to me for shoes in future. Only you keep dark about it. Don't you let on to nobody, except your mother, an' she needn't know the whys an' wherefores. I've let out shoes before now.
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