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Updated: May 2, 2025
When he was sick with the pleurisy he sends for me and he says, "Cap'n 'Wixon," says he, "you're pretty close with the money," he says he was kind of out of his head at the time and liable to say foolish things "you're pretty close," he says, "but you're a man of your word. My boy Jimmie, that run away, was the apple of my eye."
She asked it before her mother could reply. "How does putting your hands in your pockets help you think, Mr. Winslow?" she asked. "I don't see how it would help a bit?" Jed's eye twinkled, but his reply was solemnly given. "Why, you see," he drawled, "I'm built a good deal like the old steam launch Tobias Wixon used to own.
The American had never heard a nightingale and it was his first pilgrimage to the shrine of the actor-manager whose productions Americans curiously couple with the Bible as sacred lore. During the day Joel Wixon had seen the sights of Stratford with the others from his country and from England and the Continent. But now he wanted to get close to Shakespeare.
"Is there any one about here who knows you, who could prove you were who you say you are?" Mr. Winslow considered. "Ye-es," he drawled. "Ye-es, I guess so. 'Thoph Mullett and 'Bial Hardy and Georgie T. Nickerson and Squealer Wixon, they're all carpenterin' over here and they're from Orham and know me. Then there's Bluey Batcheldor and Emulous Baker and 'Gawpy' I mean Freddie G. and "
Bassett WON'T come back and I know it. She and I have sold four cars on the Cape in the last five weeks, and the profits'll more'n pay vacation expenses. Two up in Wareham, one over in Orham, to Loveland "'Did YOU sell Tobias his? I asks, settin' up again. "'Hettie and I did yes. Soon's we landed him, we come over to bag old Wixon.
Being a practical man, which is a man who strives to make his visions palpable, Wixon thought of his own home town and the colony of boys that prospered there in the Middle West. He knew that no one would seek the town because of his birth there, for he was but a buyer of fleeces, a carder of wools, a spinner of threads, and a weaver of fabrics to keep folks' bodies warm.
"There's a heap of folks in this town that think Parker was a mighty fine feller." "Yes," said Captain Eri, "and it's worth while noticin' who they be. Perez' friend, M'lissy, thinks so, and 'Squealer' Wixon and his gang think so, and 'Web' Saunders thinks so, and a lot more like them. Parker was TOO good a feller, that's what was the matter with him.
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