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Updated: June 27, 2025
"And you don't much care how you quit, so long's you quit; is that it?" "Well, suh, I don't want no trouble if I kin he'p it, but if I has to fight my way loose from Pitkin I'll do it." There was another long silence while Gabe waited. "I reckon Solomon would have his hands full straightenin' out this tangle," said Old Man Curry at last.
"That is encouraging," said Phil, as soberly as possible. "All things come to him who waits! That's what I had to write in my copy-book once." Phil was received by Mr. Pitkin with more graciousness than he expected. He felt that he must do what he could to placate Uncle Oliver, but he was more dangerous when friendly in his manner than when he was rude and impolite.
"Putty piece o' property, this 'ere farm," he said, surveying the scene around him with the air of a connoisseur. "None o' yer stun pastur land where the sheep can't get their noses down through the rocks without a file to sharpen 'em! Deacon Pitkin did a putty fair stroke o' business when he swapped off his old place for this 'ere.
"I said yes, and that each piece was twice as big as she gave." "I'm afraid that was rather forward, Ben. Did she say anything to that?" "She said I must be very greedy, and that boys always ate more'n was good for 'em. No, Uncle Job, I don't care to work for Deacon Pitkin." "Have you formed any plans, Ben?
Pitkin laughed and kissed her, and said, gaily, "All right, my daughter just right." What an evening that was, to be sure! What a confusion of joy and gladness! What a half-telling of a hundred things that it would take weeks to tell.
"How strangely things come about! She is as nearly related to me as Lavinia Mrs. Pitkin." "She told me so." "She married against the wishes of her family, but I can see now that we were all unreasonably prejudiced against her. Lavinia, however, trumped up stories against her husband, which I am now led to believe were quite destitute of foundation, and did all she could to keep alive the feud.
"Do you mean to say the boy would steal?" demanded the old gentleman indignantly. "I think it more than likely that he has appropriated the money." "I am sure he has not," said Mrs. Forbush. "And so am I," chimed in Julia. Mr. Pitkin shrugged his shoulders. "So you think," he answered; "but I don't agree with you." "Nor I!" said Mrs. Pitkin, nodding her head vigorously.
"Yes, suh, an' thank yo' kin'ly, suh." Pitkin's bandaged head brought him little sympathy in fact, the general opinion seemed to be that Mulligan had not hit him quite hard enough to do the community any good. Certainly the scantling did not improve his temper, and Pitkin made life a burden to old Gabe and the two black stable hands.
Carter," said Philip, "I can show you or any one else the house in which I was confined in Bleecker Street, and there will be no trouble in obtaining proof of the fire." "I dare say there may have been such a fire," said Mr. Pitkin, "and you may have happened to see it, and decided to weave it into your story."
It was one of the black stable hands who recalled Pitkin to a sense of his responsibilities. The roustabout approached, leading a bay colt. "Boss, is Gabe done quit us?" "Huh?" grunted Pitkin, emerging from a deep-brown study. "Yes, he's gone, confound him!" "Well, he lef thisyer Gen'al Duval hoss behin' him. The Gen'al's cooled out now; whut you want me to do with him?"
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