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Updated: June 27, 2025
It took a lot more nerve to draw a breath then than it did to fly over the German lines with the Boches popping away from all sides. I didn't mind the wounds I sustained, but the gas! Gee, it was horrible." "Your ma said in her letter to me that you'd had pneumonia twice since you got back," said Mrs. Vick. "Was that due to the gas?" "I suppose so.
There was a queer sob in her voice, as if now for the first time she knew what it was. The old life was all over. Vick had been so much of that! And she had seen little or nothing of him since his return from Europe, so absorbed had she been in the bustle of her marriage.
Steve looked really awake." "He was awake all right," Lane replied. "Tell us all about it there, Vick, see if he doesn't put me off with 'Just business, my dear'!" "It was just business. Steve has declined a good position I made for him, at nearly twice the salary he has ever earned." "And all those boys to put through college!" "What was it?" Vickers asked.
Then Christmas Day dawned, and there was Vicksburg lifted two hundred feet above the fever swamps, her court-house shining in the morning sun. Vicksburg, the well-nigh impregnable key to America's highway. When old Vick made his plantation on the Walnut Hills, he chose a site for a fortress of the future Confederacy that Vauban would have delighted in.
As I watch it with the wondering admiration with which I have daily regarded it, I hear the door of our sitting-room open, and Vick give a little shrewish shrill bark, speedily changed into an apologetic and friendly whiffling and whoffling. "Is that you?" cry I, holding on by the balcony, and leaning back to peep over my own shoulder into the interior. "Come out here, if it is."
If Tou Tou were here, she would overwhelm me with officious questions would stare me crazy, but Barbara averts her eyes, and asks nothing. We have been sitting in perfect silence for a long while; no noise but the click of Barbara's knitting-pins, the low flutter of the fire-flame, and the sort of suppressed choked inward bark, with which Vick attacks a phantom tomcat in her dreams.
Vick, Lucinda Vick, wife of the farmer in whose house the young man was spending a month as a boarder.
So the progress to the elevators was slow, for the Colonel stopped to introduce his son to every man whose desk they passed or whose eye he caught. "My boy, Vickers, Mr. Slason Mr. Slason is our credit man, Vick you'll know him better soon.... Mr. Jameson, just a moment, please; I want you to meet this young man!"
These were in a few years widely distributed under the name of Petit Gulf cotton. Colonel Vick of Mississippi then began to breed strains from selected seed; and others here and there followed his example, most of them apparently using the Mexican type.
"How you made me jump!" cry I, descending with an irritated leap to prose, and at least making the leaves say something entirely different from what they had ever been known to say before. "Why did not you bring your sentinel, Vick?"
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