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Updated: May 16, 2025
Keating, as he and Boswell and the men from Gaines drove away in Judd Bennett's omnibus, "my friends, here is where I begin the warmest hustling I ever did. I want Harkless, everybody wants him " "It is a glorious idea," said Mr. Bence. "The name of Harkless " Keating drowned the oratory. "But that isn't all. That little girl wants him to go to Congress, and that settles it. He goes."
There was a pause after the sixth, then a dubious and reluctant stroke seven a longer pause, followed by a final ring with desperate decision eight! Harkless looked at his watch; it was twenty minutes of six.
It beats me! He's all upset over Miss Sherwood, I think. Old enough to be her grandfather, too, the old " His companion stopped him, dropping a hand on his shoulder. "Listen!" They were at the corner of the Briscoe picket fence, and a sound lilted through the stillness a touch on the keys that Harkless knew. "Listen," he whispered. It was the "Moonlight Sonata" that Helen was playing.
They would not have dragged him out to their shanties wounded, or as a prisoner; such a proceeding would have courted detection, and, also, they were not that kind; they had been "looking for him" a long time, and their one idea was to kill him. And Harkless, for all his gentleness, was the sort of man, Briscoe believed, who would have to be killed before he could be touched.
I don't believe he needs as much takin' care of as we think." "Wasn't it one of them Cross-Roads devils that knocked his hat off?" asked Judd Bennett. "I thought I see Bob Skillett run up with a club." Harkless threw open the doors behind him; the hall was empty. "You may come in now," he said. "This isn't my court-house." They walked slowly back along the pike toward the brick house.
But policy and labor did not end at twilight every day; there were evenings, as in the time of Harkless, when lamps shone from the upper windows of the "Herald" building. For the little editor worked hard, and sometimes she worked late; she always worked early. She made some mistakes at first, and one or two blunders which she took more seriously than any one else did.
They're laying for Harkless partly for revenge and partly because they daren't do anything until he's out of the way." The girl gave a low cry with a sharp intake of breath. "Ah! One grows tired of this everlasting American patience! Why don't the Plattville people do something before they " "It's just as I say," Briscoe answered; "our folks are sort of used to them.
They gave him an umbrella and he plunged out into the night, and as they stood watching him for a moment from the door, the old man calling after him cheery good-nights and laughing messages to Harkless, they could hear his feet slosh into the puddles and see him fight with his umbrella when he got out into the road.
Harkless, I was looking for you." He had not seemed to be looking for anything beyond the boundaries of his own dreams, but he approached Harkless, tugging nervously at some papers in his pocket. "I have completed my notes for our Saturday edition. It was quite easy; there is much doing." "Thank you, Mr. Fisbee," said Harkless, as he took the manuscript.
This, rushing forthwith to do, he did; and, in the elation of the moment, seven or eight besides. She turned beamingly to Harkless. "What a family it is!" she laughed. "Just one big, jolly family. I didn't know people could be like this until I came to Plattville." "That is the word for it," he answered, resting his hand on the casement beside her.
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