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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Where you been?" she persisted. As he did not answer she coaxed him, "Aw, come on, Tobey. Tell ma. Where you been?" "I been catching butterflies," he answered. "I got a big one this time," with an air of triumph. "Where was you when you heard the scream?" she asked him cunningly. He gave a slow shake of his head. "I dunno," he answered in his dull voice. A big shiver shook him.
Tobey stumbled past her headlong into the house, muttering, "I'm cold!" She shut the door and followed him to the stove, where he stood shaking himself and beating at his damp clothes with clumsy fingers. "What was that scream?" she asked him tensely. She knotted her rough fingers as she waited for his answer. "I dunno," he grunted sullenly. His thick lower lip shoved itself forward, baby-fashion.
But he crawled out of his bed and began to dress himself in his awkward fashion, casting wistful and wondering glances in her direction. She watched him, her heart growing heavier and heavier. There was no one to protect Tobey. She could not make those strangers believe that Mart had changed shoes with Tobey.
She half rose, her head thrust forward on her shrivelled neck. Tobey paused, confused. "I dunno," he said. "Did he give you the pretty bright thing? And did he give you the axe " she paused and repeated the word loudly "the axe to bring home?" Tobey caught at the word. "The axe?" he cried. "The axe! Ugh! It was all sticky!" He shuddered. "Did pa give you the axe?" But the cloud had settled.
However, I don't blame Tobey, for he's a fine man, and a hard-working one, if he hasn't got the gift of speech and is never able to come to the point, though that's not for the lack of having it dinged into his ears, for if I says it once I says it fifty times a day, 'Tobey, will you come to the point?" Mr. Jayres took up his pen. "Well, let's see," he said. "What is your full name, Mr. Tobey?"
He felt that this should be told at once rather than to worry along for another week or two, and then give up. So he had told it. "But what shall we do, Miss Greggory?" appealed Billy. "It is a hard part, you know; but if Mr. Tobey can't take it, I don't know who can. We don't want to hire a singer for it, if we can help it.
Then Tobey went over to sit down upon the palmetto log behind which Joe Hawkridge still sprawled like a turtle. The anxious boy poked up his head to say: "What cheer, Peter? A plaguey muddle you found it, I'll bet." "Worse'n that, Joe. Rackham wouldn't clinch it with his oath unless I told him your name. I plead with him for safe conduct."
"You nor the sheriff nor any one won't find it where I'm going to put it!" The broken woman leaned forward, baiting him. The strange look of exaltation and sacrifice burned in her faded eyes. "I've got you, Mart!" she jeered. "You're going to swing yet! I'll even up with you for Tobey! You didn't think I could do it, did you? I'll show you! You're trapped, I tell you! And I done it!"
He'd been a week finding out from you." "Come, come," said Mr. Jayres sharply, "let's get to business." "That's what I said," replied Mrs. Tobey, "while I was putting on my things to come down town. 'Tobey, says I, 'get right to business. Don't be wasting the gentleman's time, which he always does, sir, halting and hesitating and not knowing what to say, nor ever coming to the point.
Please don't carry this entire library to Wisconsin, as you would have carried it to Africa, if I had not put my foot down." "Was Tobey here?" asked Professor Porter. "Yes, I just left him. He and Esmeralda are exchanging religious experiences on the back porch now." "Tut, tut, I must see him at once!" cried the professor.
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