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Updated: May 20, 2025
"I like 'em when they're techy it ain't so easy to make 'em do what a man wants 'em to as 'tis t'other kind say like Scraggy. I love a gal what'll spit in yer face. God! what a lickin' Flea'll git, if she tries any of them fine notions of her'n on me! For every kiss Shellington gived her, I'll draw blood outen her hide!"
She turned tear-dimmed eyes toward the college hill, and allowed her mind to travel slowly over the road she and Floyd had taken in September. Rapidly her thoughts came to the Shellington home, and she imagined she saw her brother and Horace listening to Ann as she read under the light of the red chandelier. How happy they all looked, how peaceful they were and by her gift!
Now, however, she wanted the girl to come to the dining-room to welcome Flukey to his first meal at the table and to learn that the deputy had been withdrawn. When no voice answered her knock, Ann turned the handle of the door and peeped in. Fledra's bed was open, and looked as if its occupant had just got up. Miss Shellington passed through to the bathroom, and called.
To this decision the strong, untutored mind clung, and again she refused him. "No, I'm not goin' to tell you. Mebbe some day I will; but not now." She heard him take a deep breath which tore savagely at all the best within her. It wrestled with her affection for Miss Shellington, for her duty to Floyd's friend. Not daring to glance up, she still stood in silence.
The long, dreary country marches were over; the cold nights and bare fields were things of the past. For Flukey, there were tender hands that would ease his pain; for her, a home unmenaced by Lem. She had looked her last upon horrors that had bound her to a life she hated. Shellington spoke to her. "Look at me, child!" said he. "I want to tell you what the doctor said."
"Sit here in this chair," invited Shellington. "I want to have a little chat with you this afternoon." Unconsciously Flea put herself into an attitude of graceful attention and gazed at him worshipfully. At that moment Horace felt how very much he desired that she grow into a good woman. "How do you think your brother is today?" he questioned kindly. "He's awful sick," replied Flea.
This having been done, it placed an unlooked-for stay upon Everett Brimbecomb; but he secured a court order instructing the sheriff to guard the children at the Shellington home until the boy was well enough to be taken out. So, a deputy was stationed in the house. In the meantime Lon watched eagerly for the coming of Lem.
The snow still fell heavily when they made their preparations to enter the home of Horace Shellington. About five in the afternoon they had worked their way against this sharp north wind to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery and had entered it. Until night should fall and sleep overtake the city, they planned to remain there quietly.
"But I'm a squatter, Missus, and squatters don't count for nothin'. But Fluke " "Poor child! She can't think of anyone but her brother," Miss Shellington murmured to herself. But Flea caught the words. "He's so good oh, so awful good and he ain't never had no chance with Pappy Lon. If he gets well, we'll work together, and we won't steal nothin' ever no more."
Everett lifted her delicate fingers and kissed them. "I shall have that when you are my wife," he said smoothly. Later he asked, "Did you speak with Horace of the matter that worried you, Ann?" Miss Shellington sighed. "Not in a personal way," she replied; "but I really think there is more than either you or I know.
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