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Updated: June 21, 2025
It came to Wallie's mind that if they did not move any faster when they worked than when they were at leisure, the well-digging would be a long process, and his heart sank when he saw them feeding their horses so liberally from the hay which had cost $20 a ton, delivered.
Canby started to protest, then, with a crafty look which, fleeting as it was, Wallie caught, he made out a new check for fifty-six hundred. Turning to Pinkey, Canby said: "I'll give you a hundred and fifty for your horse." Pinkey hesitated. It was a hundred more than it was worth. "I guess not." Wallie's voice was curt. "I'm clairvoyant, Canby, and I've read your thought.
Pinkey, an early caller at the Prouty House, sitting on his heel with his back against the wall, awaited with evident interest an answer to this pointed question. He explained further in response to Wallie's puzzled look: "Kale dinero the long green money." "Oh," Wallie replied, enlightened, "about $1,800."
"Oh, here you are!" exclaimed that person, irritably, as he turned off the road and came through the brush toward Wallie. There was a bright shine in Wallie's eyes as he walked toward him. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to camp in the middle of the morning?" Stott demanded in his rasping voice as he dismounted.
"If it was an ordinary bill it could wait, but I lost it at bridge last night and it's got to be paid." "You oughtn't to play bridge for money," Elizabeth said, a bit primly. "And if Leslie knew you borrowed from Wallace Sayre " "I forgot! Wallie's downstairs, Elizabeth. Really, if he wasn't so funny, he'd be tragic." "Why tragic? He has everything in the world."
Wallie's wife can be a power, if she so chooses. She can look after the poor. I have a long list of pensioners, but I am too old to add personal service." "That would be wonderful," Elizabeth said gravely. For a moment she wished Dick were rich. There was so much to be done with money, and how well he would know how to do it. She was thoughtful on the way downstairs, and Mrs.
He found himself powerless to resist the infection of Wallie's grin, and as Wallie hustled into the kitchen like a wet spaniel, he followed and helped him unload. By the time the little Jap had disgorged his last package, he had assured Keith that the rain was nice, that his name was Wallie, that he expected five dollars a week and could cook "like heaven."
And then the unmistakable sound of voices in the outer room took him curiously to the door. They were subdued voices. He listened hard, and his heart pumped faster. One of them was Wallie's voice; the other was Mary Josephine's. He was amused with himself at the extreme care with which he proceeded to dress. It was an entirely new sensation.
Not only was the grain trampled so the field looked like a race course, but panel after panel of the fence was down where the quaking-asp posts had snapped like lead-pencils. As Pinkey and Wallie surveyed it in the early dawn Wallie's voice had a catch in it when he said finally: "I guess I'm done farming. They made a good job of it."
He forgot his own breakfast, and a look of gloom settled on Wallie's face when he peered in through the door and saw that their coffee and toast were growing cold. Mary Josephine leaned a little over the table. Not once did she interrupt Keith. Never had he dreamed of a glory that might reflect his emotions as did her eyes.
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