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Updated: June 19, 2025
His wife rubbed him down with a crash towel as vigorously as she had washed him, then fastened his shirt, dipped the family comb in the soapy water and began with artistic care to part and comb his hair. "Absalom Puntz he's a nice party, pop. He'll be well-fixed till his pop's passed away a'ready." "You think! Well, now look here, mom!" Mr. Getz spoke with stern decision.
"I know, Phœbe," she said kindly, "that you want to be a good girl. But you say such funny things still that I vonder sometimes if I'm raisin' you the right way. Come, hurry, now get dressed. Your pop's goin' way over to the field near Snavely's and you want to give him good-bye before he goes to work." "I'll hurry, Aunt Maria, honest I will," the child promised and began to dress.
Ma's father ran a saloon down in Missouri; that's how she got acquainted with pop, but ma was always on the square, and they both wanted me brought up right. It was ma's idea that we should get clean away from pop's old life, and she did all the brain work of wiping the slate clean and coming away off here.
This Lyman Mertzheimer, now, his pop's the richest farmer round here and Lyman's the only child. He'd be a good catch, mebbe." "Ach," Amanda said in her quick way, "I ain't thinkin' of such things. Anyhow, I don't like Lyman so good. He's all the time braggin' about his pop's money and how much his mom pays for things, and at school he don't play fair at recess.
Why Pop's eyes would have popped out if he had seen what I had obtained, but alas when I came down to the dock I saw the Growler running up the river as if she was trying to get away from me." "Did you come up by train?" inquired Fred. "I did not come up by train," retorted John, speaking deliberately. "How did you come?" asked George, interested now in spite of his effort to appear indifferent.
They joshed Bud, who grinned and took it good-naturedly, and found another five dollars in his pocket to bet this time with Pop, who kept eyeing him sharply and it seemed to Bud warningly. But Bud wanted to play his own game, this time, and he avoided Pop's eyes.
Many were astonished to learn that he was thought guilty, but a few declared that "a coon wasn't to be trusted anyway." "Niggers are all thieves," said Jim Caven, "never yet saw an honest one." "I don't believe you!" burst out Tom. "Pop's a first-rate fellow, and the captain has got to have more proof against him before I'll believe him guilty." "Oh, he's a bad egg!" growled the Irish boy.
The glee which he tried to hide, the crafty suspicion that this was not all of it the returning conviction that Bud was actually almost penniless, and the cunning assumption of senility, was pictured on his face. Pop's poor, miserly soul was for a minute shamelessly revealed. Distraught though he was, Bud stared and shuddered a little at the spectacle.
On the reverse side were the tell-tale letters, "Y.W.C.A." "They are ready for all kinds of customers. I wonder how they'll like me!" was the humorous thought which flitted through his mind as he quietly turned the knob. It opened readily. Bobbie stood inside the hallway, face to face with the redoubtable Pop! Pop's eyes protruded as they beheld this horrid vision of a bluecoat.
Pop's had un out a hundred times to see how fine and black 'twere, and shook un out to see how thick and deep the fur is. And they been countin' and countin' on the things they'd be gettin' and needs, and can't get now she's gone. And they been countin' on the money they'd have to lay by for their feeble days when they needs un. They'll never get over mournin' the loss of un.
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