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Updated: May 2, 2025
They got the name of being worse, just because they were well, stronger; harder to bully, harder to defeat. The Lorrigans could hold their own and then some. They're still holding their own. There never was a Lorrigan ever yet backed down from anything, so I'm not going to back down from the name the Rim has given us. I'm glad I'm a Lorrigan. But I'm not glad to have you hate me for it."
Mary Hope took her handkerchief from her pocket, refusing to consider for one moment the significance of its flapping in the wind while the windows and doors were closed. "You're just plain stubborn," Tom said bluntly. "You've no business hanging out in a place like this!" "I've the business of teaching school, Mr. Lorrigan. I suppose that is as important to me as your business is to you.
Then came a lull, and the meadow lark tilted forward expectantly, his head turned sidewise to see what came next. First came Belle Lorrigan, walking backward, a shot-loaded quirt raised admonishingly to the chin of Subrosa who walked stiff-legged and reluctant, his white-lashed, blue eyes rolling fearsomely, his nostrils belling in loud snorts of protest. A complexity of emotions stirred Subrosa.
Black Rim gossip, which persisted in linking Mary Hope's name with Lance Lorrigan, grinned among themselves while they mentioned the piano, the schoolhouse, and the library as evidence of Lance's being "stuck on her." The Boyle children had frequently tattled to Mary Hope what they heard at home. Lance had done it all because he was in love with her.
Tom was not much given to reminiscence; but to-night, seeing Lance with two years of man-growth and the poise of town life upon him, he slipped into a swift review of changing conditions and a vague speculation upon the value of environment in the shaping of character. Lance was all Lorrigan.
That's all right; I understand perfectly. But I'm Lorrigan, too. You'll go, or I'll kill you. Tom Lorrigan, your hand is pret-ty close to your gun! But so is mine. You'd kill me, because I stand in the trail you've been traveling. But you wouldn't kill me a damn bit quicker than I'd kill you! I do stand in the trail and you're going to take another, both you Lorrigans.
And as they went past on the keen gallop and the horses both in a lather of sweat the boy impudently shook his fist at me where I was glancing from my window. And his mother lookit and laughed, the Jezebel!" "Mother, Lance only waved his hand." "And why should Lance be waving his hand when he should pass the house? Did he think that a Douglas would come so low as to wave at a Lorrigan?"
"I wouldn't worry over the schoolhouse right now nor Tom Lorrigan either," he said. "Look at your horse down there. If you're all right, I'll go down and see how many bones he's broken. You had a chance for a nasty pile-up. Do you know that?" "I'm grateful," said Mary Hope soberly.
"It does seem to me that a Lorrigan is always making me put on a coat!" cried Mary Hope petulantly. "And now, this isn't mine at all!" "A non-essential detail. It's a coat, and that's all that matters. Where is your horse?" "I haven't any horse here oh, they're killing each other in there! The Kennedys brought me and he's that drunk, now " "Good heck! Bill Kennedy! Well, come on.
That's no secret, except that I don't know where they have it cachéd. The schoolhouse is your " "I heard it was included in the Lorrigan refreshments." "The schoolhouse is ready for your pleasure Monday morning," Lance spoke with that perfect impersonal courtesy that is so exasperating to a person who listens for something to resent. "I knew of it, of course dad wanted it kept for a surprise.
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