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Updated: May 16, 2025
"It must be pretty near breakfast-time. Where is it?" The Hart boys broke out into a joint giggle of enjoyment as Joe responded, "There it is, right across there, beyond the harness-shop, opposite the other end of the green. Handy in bad weather." "It's a pretty decent-looking house too," said Ford. "Come on: let's go over, and let her know we've arrived in port."
On one side was a harness-shop; on the other a nondescript establishment at which one might buy anything, from sunbonnets and corsets to canned salmon and fresh eggs. Between these centres of village life stood the silent tomb for books. The stranger within the gates had this curiosity pointed out to him along with the new High School and the Soldiers' Monument.
He was studying the window of a harness-shop which appealed to him as having to do with the subject he knew most about horses; and he was pondering in what capacity he would offer his services to the proprietor, when he was accosted by a negro boy. "The boss wants you-all over yonder," he said, grinning affably. "The who?" asked the Baron, to whom the appellation was new.
The father kept a stationery and notion "bazaar" next to Heise's harness-shop on Polk Street, while the oldest son played a third violin in the orchestra of a theatre. The family rented the house unfurnished for thirty-five dollars, paying extra for the water.
Her next mission was to the various places from which she had pilfered, and they were many. One was a harness-shop. She addressed the old man thus: "How d'you do, sir? Do you remember me?" "No, mam, I don't. Who are you?" "I'm a woman who once stole a dog collar from you while your back was turned. I've come to pay for it. I'm converted now, but I used to be a 'dope' fiend." "You were?
For a long moment he stared curiously at the other bowed in thought. "Ain't you goin' to turn in?" he finally inquired. "You ain't et up by nothin', be you?" The lean man slowly lifted his head. "I was thinkin'," he said, half to himself, "of a a kind of horse's prayer I once see in a harness-shop in Albuquerque." The other twisted himself under his blanket.
In the publicity of their own taverns they entertained no great regard for each other. Mr. Schwartzmeister said a friend of his had been poisoned by Mr. Dooley's beer, and Mr. Dooley confessed that he would rather go to a harness-shop for whiskey than to Mr. Schwartzmeister's. Consequently, Mr. McKenna was amazed to learn that Mr.
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