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Updated: May 9, 2025
Every few moments while she wrote, her thoughts became distracted by the hail that besieged the roof and walls or by the screams of the baby which made her glower whenever he spat out his pacifier to become the self-centered squealer that she knew to be the base nature propelling human actions and society's disarray.
Inside of three minutes we'd voted unanimous to hold on for two months longer, made Alvin vice president of the comp'ny, and his check has been handed over to the treasurer, which is me. Then he'd shaken hands hearty with each one, patted 'em on the back, and even got Doc Fosdick smilin' amiable as he leaves. "Alvin," says I after they'd all gone, "take it from me, you're some pacifier!
But the very tardy advent of Clarke on the scene strengthens the supposition that Bonaparte was at the time by no means loth to figure as the pacifier of the Continent.
With the exception of Peggy to some limited degree, she had been banished to the companionship of her books and to learn of greatness away from their commotion. In childhood and adolescence she kept the invisible pacifier in her mouth. Then she went away and when she rarely returned on brief visits she was as obdurate as a Nazi.
The great and real pacifier of the world was the lawyer. His parchment took the place of the battle-field. The flow of his ink checked the flow of blood. His quill usurped the place of the sword. His legalism dethroned barbarism. His victories were victories of peace.
Nothing but feasting, and merry-making and song. There must be no lull in the din of glad confusion, no pause in the ring of that restless mirth that mock pacifier of human scruples that stirs and stimulates us to-day, but that to-morrow drives our deepest misery to remorse. They were married after Easter, and such a wedding as it was!
But the very tardy advent of Clarke on the scene strengthens the supposition that Bonaparte was at the time by no means loth to figure as the pacifier of the Continent.
The shaggy gray head of Jim Boone fell likewise, and he was murmuring to his savage old heart: "The good days are over. They'll never rest till one of 'em is dead, and then the rest will take sides and we'll have gun-plays at night. Seven years, and then to break up!" Dick Wilbur, as usual, was the pacifier.
She answered Martin Luther's hail with a flash of her white teeth and sped across the front porch. And in the course of just ten minutes the experienced young pacifier had established the small boy as driver to Mother Mayberry's large rocking-chair, mounted him on the foot of the bed with snapping switch to crack and thus secured a two-hour reign of peace for his elders.
"You're too good to me, Ray. You're a lot too good to me," she faltered. "Why, kid," he murmured, "everybody in this world's going to be good to you!" Dr. Archie came to the gulch and stood over his patient. "How's it going?" "Can't you give me another punch with your pacifier, doc? The little girl had better run along now." Ray released Thea's hand. "See you later, Thee."
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