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That, an opportunity for all, was what Gordon was providing. A number of horses were already hitched along the rail outside Valentine Simmons' store; soon the rail would hardly afford room for another animal. He passed the Presbyterian Church, Dr. Pelliter's drugstore and dwelling, and approached his home.
"Certainly," I agreed; "have them up at once, Simmons, by all means, and tell them No, they will probably not understand you; send them aft to me, and I will tell them what I want done."
I was feeling, therefore, none too well pleased, when a little while after dinner the bell rang and Simmons brought word to the library that there was a client in the consulting-room. I reminded the fellow that I could not possibly consider a case at such an advanced hour unless I were paid emergency overtime wages with time and a half during the day of recovery."
Benjamin Wright's growth was all in the way of temper; at least so his boy Simmons, a freckled mulatto of sixty years, informed Old Chester.
The stranger sprang to the road, and hurried to the injured man's side. Gordon got down slowly. "Where did it get him?" he inquired, with a shallow show of concern. He regarded with indifferent eyes the gaping cut across Simmons' jaw, while the stranger was converting a large linen handkerchief into a ready bandage.
Caldwell a big man with a black beard, probing, intelligent eyes, and an aggressive chin, grinned grimly. "Gary Warden tell you?" he asked. "No. Warden didn't mention you." "Then it was Jay Simmons. You ain't been anywhere else." "How do you know?" Caldwell exchanged glances with his companions. "I reckon we've been watchin' you, Lawler.
He was just about as good a fellow as a white rhinoceros, and an hour of entire civilization was about all he could possibly stand. He had the beanbag and he was tired of it. Beanbags meant nothing to him. He couldn't grasp their solemn beauty. He offered it to Petey Simmons. Petey declined, with profuse thanks. Klingel insisted.
And she don't like my obstinate fits. But, you see, I daren't sir, once I axed myself that." "Stick to that, Rogers," I said. "Besides, sir," he went on, "Simmons wants it more than I do. He's got a sick wife; and my old woman, thank God, is hale and hearty.
Enough of the proceedings were made public to enable my opponents to allege that I might have defeated Simmons, and that my action was insincere. As a result I had no further political intercourse with Butler, and when the contest came in 1877 his action aided Mr. Hoar in securing the seat in the Senate.
It was no uncommon thing, the summer of my Sophomore year, to find a dozen muddy society leaders shoveling dirt in a construction crew and singing that grand old hymn composed by Petey Simmons, which ran as follows: I've a blister on me heel, and me beak's begun to peel; I've an ache for every bone that's in me back.
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