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I'll go and dress. I brought my whole wardrobe over early in the week," Jo rattled on, and thrusting her gingham apron into Leigh's hands she dashed through the hall toward the stairway. Rosie Gimpke, the tow-headed image of her mother, Gretchen Wyker, stared at Leigh, who smiled back at her.
Let's take one more look at the refreshments that Gimpke girl may have them all in a mess by this time." There was a rush for the kitchen, where Leigh Shirley was already showing Rosie how to keep the table of dishes in order. Meanwhile, Asher Aydelot had gone out to the seat Thaine had put up under the honeysuckle trellis. "It is early for the crowd, Virgie.
"They swim well, too, especially if they happen to fall into the water just before shearing time when their wool is long," Asher said ironically. "What did you say Gretchen Gimpke had in that tin can?" Jacobs inquired blandly. "Oil of sassafras, I think," Asher responded, as he tied the horses and helped to mend the weakened fence. "Nobody prospers long after such tricks.
Not like Gimpke or Aydelot, now. He's from Wilmington, Delaware maybe." "You seem to doubt his genuineness," Asher remarked. "I don't believe he will assay well," Jacobs agreed. "I've doubted him since the day he landed in Carey's Crossing fifteen years ago.
Rosie Gimpke, who did not know the stranger's name, and Darley Champers, who thought he did, believed nothing could be gained by talking, so they held their peace. And Thomas Smith went "unknown" back to the dust of the prairie in the Grass River graveyard. The coroner tried faithfully to locate the blame.
Rosie Gimpke came back last night and she promised me shortcake and sauerkraut and pretzels and schooners of Grass River water. Do come." Indeed, Thaine had been most uncomfortable since the day at Wykerton, and he wanted to be especially good to Jo now. He didn't know exactly why, nor had he felt any jealousy at the bright looks and the leisure preference she had just given to Todd Stewart.
Jacobs had been kind to Rosie, whose bare, loveless life knew few kindnesses, and she harbored the memory of a good deed as her grandfather harbored his hatred. Moreover, the Wyker joint had played havoc with the Gimpke family. Her father had died from a fall received in a drunken brawl there. Two brothers, too drunk to know better, had driven into Little Wolf in a spring flood and been drowned.
In the dusk of the evening he drove up to Darley Champers' office in Wykerton. As he was hitching his team Rosie Gimpke rushed out of the side street and lunged across to the hitching post. "Oh, Doctor Carey, coom queek mit me," she exclaimed in a whisper. "Coom, I just got here from Mis' Aydelot's. They mak' me coom home to work at the Wyker House, ant a man get hurt bad in there.
She married his bartender, and is raising a family of little bartenders back in the hilly country there, while Gimpke helps Hans run a perfectly respectable tavern in town." "Well, I may misjudge her, but if I had any interest near here, I should want her to keep on her own side of the creek," Asher declared.
It looks like storming," he muttered. "Hello! What the devil!" For Rosie Gimpke, with blazing cheeks and hair dripping with perspiration, was hidden behind the coat. "Oh, Mr. Champers, go queek and find Yon Yacob, but don't go the creek roat. I coom slippin' to tell you to go sure, and I hit when that strange man coom slippin' in.
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