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Updated: June 14, 2025
I shall be here again by five or half-past, then; and while I am gone, I w-want you to go and find Martini and exp-plain everything to him." "Martini!" She turned round and looked at him in astonishment. "Yes; we must take him into confidence unless you can think of anyone else." "I don't quite understand what you mean."
"Well, damn you, Texas man, I w-want to t-tell you right now that you're talkin' blasphemy when you say you're n-no good. The good Lord made you, didn't He? D-d' you reckon I'm goin' to let you stand up there an' claim He did a pore job? No, sir. Trouble with you is you go an' bury yore talent instead of w-whalin' the stuffin' outa that Jake Houck fellow."
"W-want you to go to school for a winter, Cynthy. Shouldn't think I'd done right by you if I didn't." "But I have been to school. Daddy taught me a lot, and Mr. Satterlee has taught me a great deal more. I know as much as most girls of my age, and I will study so hard in Coniston this winter, if that is what you want. I've never neglected my lessons, Uncle Jethro."
"To buy more whisky and make yourself more horrible than ever?" she cried, standing with her back to the door. "Well, I'll not give it to you, and if you knock me down and fight me I'll not give it you even. I'm a better fighter than you." "I w-want it to to pay him back," he cried and began to sob, violently dropping the money on the floor.
"W-want the consolidation don't you? Want it bad don't you?" Mr. Worthington did, not answer. Jethro stood over him now, looking down at him from the other side of the narrow table. "Know Cynthy Wetherell?" he said. Then Isaac Worthington understood that his premonitions had been real. The pound of flesh was to be demanded, but strangely enough, he did not yet comprehend the nature of it.
He lit a cigarette nervously, fumbled with a bunch of keys in his trousers pocket and then, looking at her dirty hands, said: "L-l-look here, old girl. I d-don't w-want to quarrel with you. But I w-want you to f-face things a bit. Y-you s-see you've been used to a class of society quite different from mine. You know look here, I say, I don't want you to go making faux pas."
"Duncan and Lovejoy have their people paid to sit there night and day," Mr. Worthington had said. "We've got a bare majority on a full House; but you don't seem to dare to risk it. What are you going to do about it, Mr. Bass?" "W-want the bill to pass don't you?" "Certainly," Mr. Worthington had cried, on the edge of losing his temper. "L-left it to me didn't you?
"W-want the consolidation don't you? Want it bad don't you?" Mr. Worthington did, not answer. Jethro stood over him now, looking down at him from the other side of the narrow table. "Know Cynthy Wetherell?" he said. Then Isaac Worthington understood that his premonitions had been real. The pound of flesh was to be demanded, but strangely enough, he did not yet comprehend the nature of it.
Then a light seemed to dawn on her. "You frauds! So this is what you were whispering about! This is the way Cousin Ephraim buys his shirts!" "C-Cynthy," said Jethro, apologetically, "d-don't you think you ought to have a nice city dress for that supper party?" "So you're ashamed of my country clothes, are you?" she asked gayly. "W-want you to have the best, Cynthy," he replied.
"Oh, yes," answered Cynthia, forgetting her own grievance at the recollection; "only it didn't seem nearly that long." "W-want to know!" exclaimed Jethro, in astonishment, putting down his paper. "H-how did it happen?" "Come right up and spoke to us," said Ephraim, in a tone he might have used to describe a miracle, "jest as if he was common folk. Never had a more sociable talk with anybody.
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