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Updated: May 16, 2025
Laddie grasped it tight, and they stood there looking straight at each other, while a lark on the fence post close by cried, "Spring o' ye-ar!" at them, over and over, but they never paid the least attention. "You see," said Mr. Pryor, "I've been thinking things over deeply, deeply! ever since talking with your mother.
He got the `wet' jest as good as I can, an', if he drawed the `ye-ar' out a little, still any blockhead could a-told what he was sayin', an' in a voice pretty an' clear as a bell. Then he got love-sick, an' begged for comp'ny until he broke me all up. An' if I'd a-been a hen redbird I wouldn't a-been so long comin'. Had me pulverized in less'n no time!
Buckeye Pete was celebrating. He seemed to be suddenly flush with "dust" and was dispensing drinks with a liberality which soon brought him a numerous following. By midnight it was a well-mellowed assemblage. "Mignon, how long have you been dealin'?" "About tree, four mont', Monsieur." "I don't mean here. I mean altogether." "About six ye-ar, Monsieur." "You must be well off by this time.
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