Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 14, 2025
Hardly above a whisper he recited: We welcome you, dear parents, And hope you'll like our play. 'Twas written by Miss Prouty's class Just for the P. T. A. "How could your class write a play when you don't even know how to write?" asked Jerry. "I can print all my name," said Andy in his normal voice. "Miss Prouty says that part of writing is thinking and saying.
Then an idea came to him. Why not make it a sheep number exclusively? Give all the wool-growers in the vicinity a write-up. Great! He'd do it. Mr. Butefish enumerated them on his fingers. When he came to Kate Prentice, he hesitated. Would Prouty stand for it the eulogy he contemplated? In a small paper one had to consider local prejudices besides, she was not a subscriber. While Mr.
Scales averred that it was probable that he would be considered an impractical visionary when he made known his proposition; nevertheless, it had been long in his mind and no harm would come from voicing it. To his notion, the thing most needed to revitalize Prouty was an electric car-line.
Penrose's bellow of rage was heard above the chorus of voices demanding that Pinkey stop. But it was not until they were well on the road to the ranch, and Prouty was a speck, that the horses were permitted to slow down; then Pinkey turned and looked at Wallie admiringly. "You shore got a head on you, old pard! We wouldn't 'a' had a dude left if we'd let 'em out while they was mad."
The speech showed what, among other things, the years in Prouty had done to Toomey. A half-inch of cigar burned to ashes between Prentiss's finger-tips before he spoke. "So the Sheep Queen is ostracized?" "Well rather!" with unctuous emphasis. "My wife tried to take her up but she couldn't make it stick. Found it would hurt us in our business, socially, and all that."
Miss Prouty, his teacher, called it the prologue. Andy called it his log piece. Jerry took the grimy piece of paper. "Let's hear it," he told Andy. "Shoot." Andy stood with his legs far apart, his head tilted upward as if he were reading his "piece" from the ceiling. His usually merry face looked solemn, his dark eyes worried.
Riding a horse from the livery stable and accompanied by Pinkey driving two pack-horses ahead of him, Wallie left the Prouty House shortly after noon, followed by comments of a jocular nature from the bystanders. "How far is it?" inquired Wallie, who was riding his English saddle and "posting." "Twenty for me and forty for you, if you aim to ride that way," said Pinkey.
His patent camp chair had long since given way beneath him, and when he had found at the Prouty Emporium two starch boxes of the right height, he had been as elated when they were given to him as if he had been the recipient of a valuable present. They now served as chairs on either side of his plank table.
Children flattened their noses against the panes and looked out wistfully upon a world that had no joy in it. The gloom of financial depression hung over Prouty like a crepe veil. If Prouty spent Sunday waiting for Monday, it spent the rest of the week waiting for something to happen.
As Wallie took his shower and dusted himself with scented talcum and applied the various lotions and skin-foods recommended for the complexion, he wondered what the hotel accommodations would be like in Prouty, Wyoming. Not up to much, he imagined, but he decided that he would duplicate this bathroom in his own residence as soon as he had his homestead going.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking