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"We're only making half time," said Archie after a long interruption. "We'll not get into Bennington before daylight." "I've put you to an awful lot of trouble," Sally remarked with real contrition. "And you've left your friend the Governor far behind. I suppose they started out to look for us in pop's machine when we didn't show up and they may be close behind us now.
And you say he got away from you?" "Yes, sir." "It is a question if he will come back providing he is really guilty. I will have his trunk and bag searched without delay. But if he is guilty how did that ruby stud and the watch come into Alexander Pop's possession?" "He was down on Aleck," replied Tom, who had hobbled in after the others.
I hired a horse and a carriage and a boy to come out here this mornin' to ask you about that man. And what's come of it? You haven't got a single thing to tell anybody except that he's big." The captain changed the subject again. "How is your father?" he asked. "Pop's just the same as he always is," was the answer.
"And I were thinkin' I heard something." "But there is ghosts, sir, plenty of un," broke in Andy. "Pop's seen ghosts and so has Zeke Hodge and Uncle Billy and plenty of folks. They says the ghost of Long John, the old Injun that used to be at the Post and was drowned, goes paddlin' and paddlin' about in a canoe o' nights."
I carry across the years the impression of an almost continuous sweeping sound an undertone accompaniment to my discussion with carpenter and painter and I see rows of little unpacked dresses swinging in the sun. One of my own early jobs was to clean the cellar. It was a sizable undertaking, and I engaged Old Pop's Sam to help me.
"A man was made to be master," the youth went on, evidently quoting some recent reading. "Woman is the weaker vessel." "Wait till you try to break one," came Uncle Amos's wise comment. "I," said Lyman proudly, "I could be master of any woman I marry! And I bet, I dare to bet my pop's farm, that any girl I set out to get I can get, too. I'd just carry her off or something.
If Pop's legs are not so firm and muscular as they used to be in those days when he took such leaps into White's buckskins, in revenge his waist is much larger. He wears a very good coat, however, and a waistband, which he lets out after dinner. Before ladies he blushes, and is as silent as a schoolboy. He calls them "modest women."
Pop forgot his rheumatism and ran pretty fast for a man his age, and when Bud arrived Pop's vocabulary had limbered up to a more surprising activity than his legs. "Want to bet on yourself, Pop?" Bud called out when Pop was running back and forth, hopefully trying to corner Smoky in a rocky draw. "I'm willing to risk a dollar on you, anyway."
With your big brothers' ears open and their tongues ready with a caustic remark, it doesn't need "Pop's" keen eye to keep you within the realms of truth as to the length of your run or why you missed that catch.
She rushed breathlessly into Val's room and caught her by the arm. "Now's your chancet, Val," she hissed in a loud whisper. "Man jest now rode into town; he's over in Pop's place I seen him go in. He's good for the day, sure. I'll have Hank hitch right up, an' you can go down to the stable and start from there, so'st he won't see you.
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