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"You see, Professor," said Young, "I don't want t' say anything against that big book you're writin'. I don't doubt that in its way it'll be a daisy; but you know yourself there won't be more'n about three cranks in th' whole o' God's universe who'll ever read more'n about ten lines of it; an' that's why I want you t' rush ahead with th' little book that stands some chance o' bein' read outside o' lunatic asylums so's folks'll know what a powerful queer time we've had.
Miss Timpson declared that it was "real lovely" of Mr. Holliday Kendrick. Caleb Hammond announced that he always cal'lated there was a boom coming for the town. Had said so more times than he could count. "Folks'll tell you I said it, too," he proclaimed stoutly. "They'll bear me out in it, if you ask 'em." "I'm glad we're goin' to have such nice neighbors," said Thankful.
It's made me pretty nervous and excited like, and I hope you'll excuse that; but I'm going to tell it to you the quickest way, for, 'nless I'm awful mistook, them folks'll git out quick's they find out who I be, or who I ain't, one or t'other.
"Maybe it didn't work all right," Herring was saying, "but folks'll suspect him just the same." "It wouldn't have went all right if I hadn't seen your name in it," snapped Merritt, "and made you tear it out before you slipped it in his desk last night." "That's all right, he didn't see it and I did tear it out." "Burn it up?" "I guess so.
"These clothes" there was a narrow slip of mirror between the front windows of the taxi which reflected him, a section at a time "these clothes 'ud pass," he considered gloomily, considering their worn and unbusinesslike quality. "But with this" his fingers explored his chin "folks'll think we only do business between sprees."
'Seems some the boys re-cog-nized him as one the Cross-Roads Skillets, and sicked the dogs on him, and he had a pretty mean time of it. Wimby says the Cross-Roads folks'll be worse 'n ever, and, says he, 'Tell him to stick close to town, says he.
"Well, you wouldn't, you know," growled Billy. Lydia and Ma Norton looked up, startled at his tone. "For the land's sake, Billy, why not?" exclaimed Ma. "Because, Lydia's getting too big now to do these hired girl stunts. It was bad enough when she was little. But folks'll never forget 'em and always think of her as a hired girl if she keeps on." Lydia gasped and turned scarlet.
"Did you 'ear," enquired a Cockney who came next in the line, "that all wounded are going to 'ave a nice little gold stripe to wear a stripe for every wound?" There was much interest at this. "That'll be fine," observed a man of Kent, who had been out since Mons, and been wounded three times. "Folks'll know now that I'm not a Derby recruit."
She went on, hour after hour, till I was sorry I ever opened the mosquito question and gave her a start. Folks'll tell you't I've always ben kind o' offish and partic'lar for a gal that's raised in the woods, and I am, with the rag-tag and bob-tail, and a gal has to be, if she wants to be anything, but when people comes along which is my equals, I reckon I'm a pretty sociable heifer after all."
"We must send him back home," said she, "or his folks'll be scared out of their wits." The man took a few puffs on his pipe, which always seemed to help him in thinking, then replied, "We might let him off at the Landing it's up the towpath a piece. We kin find someone to give him a lift." "That's the best plan," she agreed, "there's the Ruralfree'livery now."
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