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Updated: May 2, 2025
I ain't real sure, but I kind of have an idee that the bedpost business comes from the fact that I was huggin' the widow some of the time. If I did, 'twa'n't knowin'ly, and she never mentioned it afterwards. All I can swear to is clouds of dust, and horns honkin', and telegraph poles lookin' like teeth in a comb, and Jonadab's face set as the Day of Judgment.
Lathrop, but she says he ain't sighed once not once since they was married, an' as for bein' happy well she says she's about give up hope. She don't want folks to know, 'cause she says she's got some pride, but she says there's no tellin' how soon it'll run out if Gran'ma Mullins keeps on huggin' Hiram, an' tellin' her how perfect he is over his own head." "I don't " said Mrs. Lathrop.
Well, they tried all they could to console the beaver, but it 'twant no use. He wouldn't be consoled. All he did was to git an ole shoe belonging to his master, an' if he didn't haul that ere shoe around day after day wherever he went. Well, the beaver 'gan to grow thin, and one night they found he was a dyin', jest from starvin' himself to death and a huggin' the ole shoe." "Oh!
'Sure I'm glad 'twas none of yerselves he tuk to huggin', said the faithful fellow; 'an' scrapin' as if 'twas a pratie he wanted to peel! He had his revenge on the forepaws next morning when Mr. Holt cut them off, some time before breakfast, and set them in a mound of hot ashes to bake, surrounding and crowning them further with live coals.
He posed as a poet and, to this end, wore, even at the club, "a mysterious blue cloak, with a canine skin collar"; imagine this of a warm evening May 12 in a stuffy room in Huggin Lane! He must, however, live up to his character, at all hazards. Snodgrass and his verses, and his perpetual "note book," must have made him a bore of the first water. How could the charming Emily have selected him.
"As long as we can pull trigger." "I'll tell Granville. He wants to save his sister if he can." "Then he must fight. Tell him so," I warned. I turned back to Cousin. He was scowling savagely through his peephole. "Take the back side 'n' watch for signs on the ridge," he mumbled. "Them out front are huggin' dirt an' not tryin' to git nearer. They're waitin' for somethin'."
"I like you quaren well," she said, holding him to her. "Do you, Sheila?" "Aye, of course I do, or I wouldn't be huggin' you like this, would I? Did you bring the yella male?" He nodded his head. "It's down below," he said. "Dear, oh, dear," she sighed. "I've wasted a terrible lot of time on you, Mr. Quinn!..." "Call me 'Henry," he said. "I'll call you 'Harry," she answered.
Yes it wuz my own beloved pardner, madly racin' down the wharf, swingin' his familiar old carpet satchel in his hand, also huggin' in his arms a big bundle done up in newspaper, which busted as he reached the water's edge, dribblin' out neckties, bandanna handkerchiefs, suspenders, cookies, and the dressin' gown with tossels.
"He's treated you mean, Charlotte," her mother cried out, with a half sob. "He'd ought to be strung up after he acted so, huggin' an' kissin' you right before folk's face and eyes." "It was more my fault than 'twas his," returned Charlotte; and she shut the door. "Then I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself," Sarah called after her, but Charlotte did not seem to hear.
She never made no fuss when Josh was awake, but if he shet his eyes, she'd kind o' hang over the bed an' smooth the clo'es as if they was kittens, an' once I ketched her huggin' up the sleeve of his old barn coat that hung outside the door. If ever a woman made a fool of herself over a man that wa'n't wuth it, 'twas Lyddy Ann Marden!
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