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Updated: June 25, 2025
The boy's face was an odd mixture of expressions as he watched her amusement, astonishment, disapproval, and grudging admiration all in one. Finally, catching the lamb by the hind leg she threw it by a twist acquired through much practice and buckled a bell around its neck. As she turned it loose and straightened up, she saw Disston.
She added formally, "I wasn't expecting to see any one I knew you surprised me." Wondering at her change of manner, he laughed as he shook hands with her. "I hoped to it's one of the things I've been looking forward to." Beth Rathburn was looking, not at Kate, but at Disston, when he introduced them; she could not remember when she had seen him so animated, so genuinely glad.
Her mother's expostulation was lost upon her for, looking at Disston, she was a little dismayed by the expression upon his face when he turned and, leaning his back against the porch post, faced her, saying with a sternness which was foreign to him: "It's quite impossible for you to understand or appreciate a woman like Kate Prentice, and you will oblige me, Beth, by refraining from criticising her, at least in my presence."
"If by that you mean intelligent, I thank you for the compliment, and I'm sorry that I can't " She checked herself, but the inference was clear that she intended to add "return it." Miss Rathburn's fair skin became a deeper pink than even a pink-lined parasol warranted, while Kate addressed herself to Disston exclusively. Disston had listened in dismay. Whatever was the matter?
Well, that was what she was there for to protect them. She did not expect any quarter because she was a woman or intend to give any. She meant to shoot to kill, if she had the opportunity. It was in this survey that Kate saw Disston and recognized him instantly.
It is made by Disston, but their name is not on it, nor is it any such quality as they would brand with their name. But they have a tremendous trade in goods on which their name never appears. I guess they are the largest saw manufacturers in the world." "Disston must have an easy job." "Don't you fool yourself. Sam has just as hard a job as you have.
She was thinking of Disston as the door of the wagon swung gently to and fro, rattling the frying pan which hung on a nail on the lower half of it, of her brusque and ungracious reply when he had told her he was coming again to see her, of the sorry figure she had cut beside the girl he had brought, and of her fierce resentment at the girl's covert ridicule.
"Good-bye," the girl gathered up the reins reluctantly. "You didn't tell me your name." "Katie Prentice." "Mine's Hughie Disston," he added, his black eyes shining with friendliness. "Maybe I'll see you again sometime." She answered shyly: "Maybe." Toomey started away at a gallop, calling sharply: "Come on, Hughie!"
Meredith is a little too deep or too subtle for Strauss unless it be granted that cynicism is more a part of comedy than a part of refined-insult. Let us also remember that Mr. Disston, not Mr. Strauss, put the funny notes in the bassoon. A symphony written only to amuse and entertain is likely to amuse only the writer and him not long after the check is cashed.
She had shocked and disgusted Disston beyond doubt by the manner in which she had retaliated, yet she knew that in similar circumstances she would do the same again, for her first impulse nowadays was to strike back harder than she was struck.
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