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Updated: June 3, 2025
"T-take hold of this rope-end. Throw yourself flat on the ground there. Sit on him, you girls, so that he may not be drawn over!" cried a voice, pointed, vigorous. Pem knew that it was the fiery voice of the nickum, the broad-shouldered youth, who had sat in the chair before her, whose crowing had been responsible for her feat.
And yet, and yet perhaps it was the dash of spice in her name Pem could not help feeling an interest for his own sake in that "hot tamale", the Thunder Bird's rival in the will!
"No, it isn't dream-stuff, father; it's history, the history of your life and mine, all told in symbols, woven into a chain, a stole see to wear with my ceremonial dress. It it's my masterpiece." Pem looked up, all girl, all Rose, now. "I didn't want to show it to you until it was finished. But now now don't you want to see it?"
Pem musingly nursed her chin, and with it a wildfire interest in the "hot tamale." "I heard he did. Somebody said so somebody who met him out West, years ago that he was a widower, with a little son. But apparently he has no more use for his family." "No more no more than his sister, Mrs.
Pem looked adoringly at her handiwork. "A besieged Jewish city, away back in King David's time! To be sure, one reads of it in in what's a bloodthirsty chapter of the Old Testament!
She was quite sure now that any man who could turn out a daughter, not yet sixteen, to behave in a fearful emergency as Pem had done without whom her own daughter would not be here to-day, as Una constantly kept repeating could never forge a gun, be it rocket or rifle, that would hit no mark!
As moment by moment flew by romance in their young breasts became a sort of rhapsody that set every thought to wild music. To Pem it was as she had dreamed it would be, away back in her father's laboratory, before the February train wreck. Hands seemed reaching out to her from everywhere, she the satellite reflecting her father's light.
"For where are the funds coming from, Pem, the little bonanza fairy gold-mine necessary to gorge our Thunder Bird for its record flight fit it out for its novel migration to the moon, eh?" The inventor clasped his hands behind his head, whistling ruefully. "Funds, child! Already, it has pecked through the biggest slice of mine!"
Pem snatched up the rag of parachute again, her eyes going wildly from the soot-like scrap of silk to a wonderful, antique ring upon the little finger of the pale hand which twitched so strangely below her. "What! S-steal the little record, you mean!" The bushy eyebrows were twitching, too.
He did not know what you were talking about, with your Crusading ancestors and the D'Olanes. I could see it in his face. You are all blood-blind up here, Cousin Pem. I was laughing to myself all the time, for I guessed who Dan Dolan was. I knew he was at St. Andrew's. His dear old Aunt Winnie is one of my truest friends." "O Marraine, Marraine!" murmured Polly, eagerly.
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