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Updated: June 15, 2025
"No, he never stole a horse or anything else that we know of," repeated Mr. Westall. "But he rides a critter that is so near like one that was stolen from a Confederate by a Union man of the name of Morehouse a few days ago, that you could hardly tell them apart." "And I don't much blame Morehouse for stealing that horse, either," said one of the Emergency men, who had not spoken before.
That time, before Conway could swing, the gong saved him. Again it was Hogarty who was first through the ropes. Effortlessly he stooped and lifted that limp body and carried it across to the stool. They tried to stretch him back against the ropes behind him, and each time his head slumped forward over his knees. Old Jerry turned toward Morehouse and choked licked his lips and choked again.
And it was of that very night Morehouse had been thinking that and the face of the big boy silent there on the threshold when the interruption came. But still he uttered no welcome; instead there was something close akin to distinct aversion in his manner as he drew up a chair for the old man. Old Jerry felt the chill lack of cordiality, but he sat down.
Still, I think Eddie felt some uncomfortable pangs when he looked at her set face. On the way to the depot we had to pass the Agassiz School, where Josie Morehouse was substituting second reader for the Wilson girl, who was sick. She was standing in the window as we passed. Eddie took off his cap and waved to her, and she returned the wave as well as she could without having the children see her.
Sixty-nine guinea-pigs had been born during his absence. He ran out again and made feverish inquiries in the village. Mr. Morehouse had not only moved, but he had left Westcote. Flannery returned to the express office and found that two hundred and six guinea-pigs had entered the world since he left it. He wrote a telegram to the Audit Department.
And Morehouse nodded his head dumbly. "He he's gone!" he said. Old Jerry sat and stared back at him as though he couldn't understand. He remembered the bit of a red bow in his pocket then; he fumbled inside and found it. He remembered the eyes of the girl who had given it to him, too, that night when she had knelt at his knees. His old fingers closed, viselike, upon the fat man's arm.
You know how close I was kept till a year ago. But I've heard of them. They're in with the Falconer set and that lot, so it shows they're smart. What does Henry Morehouse want, making up to you, Nick?" "It was oil business brought us together and he seemed to take a sort of likin' to me. We care about some o' the same things books and that. Now he's going East maybe on more oil business.
And he continued to smile, while he stood there in the open door and watched Morehouse mince on tiptoe across the polished floor to the corner where Ogden was officiously presenting each member of the Monday morning squad of regulars, as they returned from the dressing-rooms, to the big-shouldered boy in black, whose face was so very grave.
They were to go to New York, Washington, etc., on a wedding trip, after which they were to meet Patty and sail for Egypt to be gone indefinitely. "Oh, dear! who can take your place at Camp?" said the girls. "We'll never find another Guardian like you." "I'll ask Louise Morehouse," said Miss Kate. "She's lovely, and very much interested in this Camp Fire movement.
Morehouse, vexed the Princess unreasonably with Nickson Hilliard, who ought to have written, if he could not call, to tell his story; and when she heard nothing from him, saw nothing of him, it was in resentment that she left New York next morning.
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