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Birdie, my school baby of six, had grown to a picture of maiden beauty, tall and tawny. "Edgar is gone," said the mother, with head half bowed, "gone to work in Nashville; he and his father couldn't agree." Little Doc, the boy born since the time of my school, took me horseback down the creek next morning toward Farmer Dowell's.
Birdie, my school baby of six, had grown to a picture of maiden beauty, tall and tawny. "Edgar is gone," said the mother, with head half bowed, "gone to work in Nashville; he and his father couldn't agree." Little Doc, the boy born since the time of my school, took me horseback down the creek next morning toward Farmer Dowell's.
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