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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Your poor mother was a sensible woman, Donnie girl," he told the orphan, "an' you're a dutiful daughter to follow out her last wishes under these er deplorable circumstances er er I mean it's a terrible hard thing to lose your mother, Donnie, an' damme, Donnie, I'm sorry. 'Pon my word, I'm sorry." Mrs.
If you win I want to live with you in Donnaville, but if you lose I want you to make me a promise, Bob." "You wonderful woman! What is it you wonderful, wonderful woman?" "I'm asking for a promise, dear." "I'll grant it." "If you lose, you'll come to me and we'll be married despite defeat and failure, and you'll live here, with me at the Hat Ranch until " "Oh, Donnie, girl, I couldn't do that!"
"A-a-h-h-h!" breathed Mrs. Pennycook. She understood now. What a baggage the girl was! How heartless, begrudging her poor dead mother the poor comfort of a Christian burial, because she wanted the money for herself! Privately Mrs. Pennycook prophesied a bad ending for Donnie Corblay.
Grandma and Ma Burley cleaning, washing, cooking on the ancient electric stove; little Donnie, being a nuisance, poking at the keys on his father's crude, manual typewriter, a museum piece; Donnie and his brothers wasting away childhood digging and piling sand on the beach, paddling a boat and actually building a play house. It was mad. People playing robots.
Say, Miss Donnie, if ever I see a cold-blooded, fishy, snaky, ornery man, it's this T. Morgan Carey an' at that he's a dead ringer for a church deacon. That Carey man would steal a hot stove without burnin' himself.
Molly Welch, in a shirt-waist and a white tam-o'-shanter cap, slipped out from the tent under his arm and laughed up in his face. "She's a crazy one you brought along. She'll get what she wants!" "Oh, I'll settle with you, all right!" Hedger brought out with difficulty. "It's not my fault, Donnie. I couldn't do anything with her. She bought me off. What's the matter with you? Are you soft on her?
I've wore corns on my hands a- bangin' that there iron gate to announce my approach, an' it wasn't no use; so I just made up my mind you was ready to receive me an' I come ramblin' in. Donnie, you know I ain't one o' the presumin' kind." He held out a hand to Bob and another to Donna. "How?" he queried, and made swift appraisal of Bob McGraw from heels to hair.
This wouldn't have happened. Damn dogs! They say little Donnie belongs east o' the tracks. I killed O'Rourke for thinkin' it." A knock sounded on the door, and Bob opened it, to admit Dan Pennycook. "Doc Taylor's in Bakersfield" he said. Mr. Hennage grinned. "I knew it no luck to-day" he said. "Just wipe the sand out o' my eyes, Bob an' let me kick the bucket without disturbin' nobody.
Shortly thereafter her worthy spouse, Dan Pennycook, came in for his lunch. To him Mrs. Pennycook imparted the tale of the strange man who had rung her up, demanding that she go down to the Hat Ranch and see Donnie Corblay. Pennycook's stupid good-natured face clouded. "Then," he demanded, "why don't you do it?
Hennage, "there ain't no comparison. Them two tin- horns was frightened o' death, but poor little Donnie is plumb fearful o' life, an' there ain't a soul in the world can help her but me. She's got hers, just like her mother did, an' there ain't never goin' to be no joy in them eyes no more, unless I act, an' act lively."
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