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Updated: May 15, 2025
When Everett arrived in Ithaca he made arrangements with the conductor of the local train running to Geneva to have it slow down at Sherwoods Lane. A sudden jerk of the engine as it halted at the path that led to Lon's hut brought Brimbecomb to his feet, and he hurried from the car with muttered thanks and a substantial consideration to the conductor.
"Is there a scow down there that belongs to " "That there scow belongs to Lem Crabbe," broke in Scraggy. "Yep, it comed in this mornin'. Lem be a good man, a fine man, the bestest man ye ever see." Brimbecomb took some money from his pocket and, placing it in her fingers, hurried away. Fledra heard Everett when he came to Lon's shanty door and knocked. She heard the squatter call him by name.
"I has this, ye see and Flea's meat's as soft as a chicken's!" He raised his knife menacingly; but dropped it slowly at sight of Ann and Katherine. "Sister Ann!" breathed Fledra. Ann's fingers grasped Vandecar's arm spasmodically; but, without glancing back at her, he shook them off. His brow had gathered deep lines at Lon's words, and now his unswerving gray eyes bent low to the squatter.
"Don't touch me now!" she cried, shuddering. "Don't yet! I'm comin' back by and by." Before he could place his hands upon her, Fledra had gone down the plank. From the small boat-window Lem could discern the little figure flitting among the hut bushes; in another moment she had crawled through the open window into Lon's hut.
Poor old Lon's in a soldier's home, and he's just got track of me. "My soul and body, Frances! Think of it," added the excited Captain. "He's been living almost like a beggar for years in a Confederate soldiers' home good place, like enough, of its kind, but here am I rolling in wealth, and that treasure chest right here under my eye, and Lon suffering, perhaps "
"But of course Henrietta never sees Lon's romance and he ain't always had the greatest patience with hers like the time she got up the Art Loan Exhibit to get new books for the M.E. Sabbath-school library and got Spud Mulkins of the El Adobe to lend 'em the big gold-framed oil painting that hangs over his bar.
"What's amiss with my dear maid?" anxiously asked Mrs. Barbara, when bed-time came. Then it all came out. "I've lost my pearl-rimmed locket!" sobbed Jinty. "Ah Lon asked to look at it this morning the first thing; she always does, you know. And I took it off, and then Mike pecked my legs and Ah Lon's so hard that we both ran away screaming, and I must have dropped the locket and it's gone!"
I thought as how we could crawl in there while we was waitin' for night." A strange look passed across Lon's face. "Ye mean to hide in the cemetray?" he asked. "Yep. Be ye afeared?" "I ain't got no likin' for dead folks," muttered Cronk.
Henrietta Templeton Price, recognized leader of our literary and artistic set. Or I think they call it a 'group' or a 'coterie' or something. Setting at Lon's desk she was, toying petulantly with horrid old pens and blotters, and probably bestowing glances of disrelish from time to time round the grimy office where her scrubby little husband toiled his days away in unromantic squalor.
They almost forgot Lon's place, even, as they gazed contentedly about, and enjoyed the bright open fire in the immense hall grate, which these cool nights made welcome.
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