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Updated: June 2, 2025
He liked to lounge like this in front of the post-office and smoke in the golden air with a lot of men sitting round. Atwood had been raised on a ranch. He had listened to the call of the city, but he was still a small-town man. "Ahead of what?" asked O-liver. Atwood was vague. He felt himself a rising citizen.
She saw O-liver start from his chair and sink back, helpless against the insidiousness of this attack. The speaker went on. It would seem, he said, from what he could learn, that Tillotson's honorable opponent was sailing under false colors. He was a married man. He had deserted his wife. He sat among them as a saint, when he was really a sinner. "A sinner, gentlemen."
He still would take no money from his father, but he saw much of him, for Mrs. Lee was dead. The Tudor house was without a mistress. It seemed a pity that O-liver had no wife to grace its halls. The newspapers stated that Fluffy Hair's income had doubled. Whether this was true or not it sounded well, and Fluffy Hair still seemed young on the screen.
They laughed at him outwardly, but in their hearts they did not laugh. They could not think of him as old. They felt that in a hundred years he would still be strong and sure, his blond mane untouched by gray, his clear blue eyes unblurred. Atwood rounding them all up for a drink found that O-liver wouldn't drink. "Drank too much, once upon a time," he confessed frankly.
O-liver would of course present his own case. The thing, as Atwood told Henry, promised to be exciting. Jane came with Tommy. There was a sort of rude grand stand opposite the platform, and she had a seat well up toward the top. She wore a white skirt, a gray sweater and a white hat. She had a friendly smile for the people about her. And they smiled back. They liked Jane. O-liver spoke first.
"Leeks and lettuce?" said poor Tommy, who had never heard of leeks. "Her complexion will be better," said O-liver, "and her peace of mind great." "Her complexion is perfect," Tommy told him, "and she isn't the peaceful kind. Her hair is red." "Red-haired women" O-liver had his eye on Vanity Fair "red-haired women always flaunt themselves."
Yet it was dark, with the stars above them and the sea a faint gray below, before O-liver said to her what he had brought her there to say. He told her of his father and mother. Of Fluffy Hair. "I waked up at last to the fact that I was letting two women support me. So I came here and began to work at fifteen dollars a week. And for the first time in my life I respected myself and was content.
It was O-liver who must be saved! And so when Tillotson's backer sat down Jane stood up. "Please, listen!" she said; and the crowd turned toward her. "Please, listen, and stop singing that silly song. I never heard anything so silly as that song in my life!" Before her scorn the chant died away in a gasp! "The thing you've got to think about," she went on, "isn't Tillotson or O-liver Lee.
All the passion he might have given to his alien wife and alien son was lavished on this land which was bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. And now his son had ridden up to him over those low hills at the foot of the mountain and had said: "Father, I have sinned." O-liver had not put it scripturally. He had said: "I'm sorry, dad.
O-liver on Mary Pick, with his hat off and his mane tossed back, might have been Henry of the white plumes. "Of course they'll listen." And they did! Jane stood on her box and addressed them. "I don't want to get any more for my sandwiches than they are worth," she said earnestly. "I make good ones, and I sell them for twenty cents because they are the best of their kind. I am glad you like them.
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