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Updated: May 25, 2025
His head was perfectly bald, and its yellow skin, divested of any artificial covering, glistened like polished ivory. His throat was long and scraggy, and supported a head unrivalled for ugliness. His nose had been broken in his youth, and was almost compressed flat with his face. His few remaining teeth were yellow and discoloured with large gaps between them.
"I gived ye to the pretty lady with the golden hair when yer pappy hurt ye, and I knowed ye again; for the Brimbecomb's name was on the boat that took ye. Yer pappy didn't know ye were a livin' till a little while ago, and he wants ye now." "Were you married to him, this man you call my father?" demanded Everett. Scraggy shook her head.
He made a desperate move toward her; but the cat rose threateningly, its hair standing on end in a mound upon the humped back. Lem fell away with an oath, and Scraggy, smiling wanly, petted the vicious brute. "I said ye was to keep away, Lem. Wait till I get done. Flea's got to be some 'un else's, not yers." "Who's?" Lem's voice rose; but he did not advance toward her. "I dunno; but I seed him.
House-maids left the steps half-scrubbed, and helped her measure out the corn and beans, gossiping eagerly; the newsboys "Hi-d!" at her in a friendly, patronizing way; women in rusty black, with sharp, pale faces, hoisted their baskets, in which usually lay a scraggy bit of flitch, on to the wheel, their whispered bargaining ending oftenest in a low "Thank ye, Lois!" for she sold cheaper to some people than they did in the market.
He was often to be seen strolling there, like an old king of the stones and the brambles, drawing up his tall, scraggy figure as if he were quite proud of the poverty of that soil. As it was, all the happiness of the Froments was for a time destroyed.
Over the barrel he saw a scraggy pony loping down into the wash along the trail of the burro. The pony's rider was armed with a rifle. Lennon took quick aim only to drop the muzzle of his weapon. The rider had flung up a gauntleted hand, palm outward. A musical feminine hail rang aslant the arroyo: "Wa-hoo! Friend! Don't shoot!" Lennon had already perceived that the rider was a woman.
She leaned farther over, and kissed the white face of her son. "Yer hook's killed our little 'un, Lemmy my little 'un, my little 'un!" "Oh, no, no, he isn't dead!" cried Ann. "He can't be dead!" She let go her hold on Fledra, and, with Scraggy, bent over Everett. "Oh, he breathes! But he isn't your son?" "Yep; he be Lemmy's boy and mine," answered Scraggy, lifting her eyes once more to Ann. "Look!
He he's been hooked. And it's his birthday. Take him, 'cause he'll die if ye don't!" Moved to a sense of pity, the light-haired woman extended two slender white hands to receive the human bundle, struggling in pain under the muffling shawl. "He's a dyin'!" gasped Scraggy. "His pappy's a hatin' him! Give him warm milk " Again the yacht's whistle shrieked hoarsely, drowning her last words.
In my fancy I always see her carrying a lamp, a humble kitchen lamp, illuminating the beams of some rustic roof a lamp which will never go out while suspended from that meagre arm of hers, scraggy and strong as a vine-branch. "Therese, my cravat! Don't you know, wretched woman, that to-day is the first Thursday in June, and that Mademoiselle Jeanne will be waiting for me?
During these dreary days he often longed for Kennedy Square and for those whom he loved, but it was not until one warm spring day, when the grass was struggling into life, and the twigs on the scraggy trees in Union Square were growing pink and green with impatient buds and leaves that he had his wish. Then a startling telegram summoned him. It read as follows: "Father ill. Come at once. "Mother"
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