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Updated: June 22, 2025
The drum beat quickened, and the great circle of dancing Indians broke and charged the crowd of whites. A number of them drew revolvers and began firing them into the air. Others drew taut the great bows they carried. The whites plunged backward precipitately. Billy thrust Lydia behind him. "Don't move, Lyd," he cried, pushing aside a threatening buck as he did so.
He leaned over and patted her hand. "Why worry about it, Lyd? Your father and I'll look out for it all." "Do I have to keep it?" asked Lydia, tensely. "Will the law make me?" "I should say not! You can give it to me, if you want to," laughed Kent. "But don't you see how I feel?" cried Lydia.
"Why aren't you holding your partner's head since he committed political suicide in the Sentinel?" "I'd rather hold your head, Lyd, any day in the week." "Gaul," said Miss Chipley, passing on, her sharply etched little face glowing in the pink reflection of the parasol, "is bounded on the north by Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house, and on the south by " "By the Frigid Zone!"
Amos dropped his pipe. "Lydia! You don't mean it! Why, my little girl! Lord, Kent! Isn't she just all right! Make me happy! Why, Lydia, you've made a young man of me I swan !" Kent was holding one hand now, Amos the other. Both looked at Lydia with radiant faces. And she could but feel an answering glow. "We'll make this up to you, Lyd, old lady," cried Kent. "See if we don't."
"Well, I know he is one of our most prominent young men, and Rose was president of the club, and I suppose we less fortunate people can talk all we please, they'll be just that much better off than we are!" Lydia said with a little edge to her voice. "Because his father is rich, Lyd.
"Don't you dare to say such things about my father," shrieked Margery. "He was awful good to Dad and me about a money matter," protested Lydia. "Aw, all of us men are good to you, Lyd," said Kent impatiently. "You're that kind. Being good to you don't make a man a saint. Look at Levine. He's got a lot of followers, but I'll bet you're the only person he's fond of."
"Not so very! Say, Lyd, let's kill time," Kent interrupted himself with a yawn, "with a tramp up to the settlement for some gum." Lydia stifled an elaborate yawn, at which Kent grinned. "All right, I can stand it if you can," she said. "Will you come along, Miss Towne?" Miss Towne, who had been highly edified by the morning's maneuvering shook her head and settled herself in her hammock.
I had no idea what time it was!" "Well, I certainly will have Pa speak to you, if you can't get into the house before dark!" Mrs. Monroe said in mild protest. "Lyd stopped her sewing to set the table." "Len home?" Martie, now slicing bread, asked resentfully. "No. But a boy is different," Mrs. Monroe answered as she had answered hundreds of times before.
"Kent, I can't go. I might be strong enough for one or two dances by that time, but I can't get my clothes done." "Pshaw, isn't that hard luck!" Kent's voice was soft with sympathy. "Never mind, old lady! I'm so darned glad to have you getting well so fast, that the Prom. doesn't matter. Say, Lyd, Margery's come out fine, since you've been sick!" "I know it," said Lydia.
"And if you tell him we overheard him in the woods, I'll be sore." "I don't see why." "Because, after I finish High School, I'm going to tell him I know, to make him let me in on the deal. Look here, Lyd, don't tell him I was with you, anyhow." "Oh, all right," replied Lydia, crossly. "For goodness' sake, don't let's talk about it any more. I don't see why men always have to be plotting!
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