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"Straight hover hover the way it was," said a thick, puzzled voice. "There, that one! 'Is bloody barth!" The rattles whirred as if their first owner lived. Rawling pressed the switch. "Your Honor!" Onnie screamed. "Your Honor! Master San! Be lockin' the door inside, Master San! Out of this, you! You!"
Onnie eyed him dazedly when he strode into her kitchen for sandwiches against an afternoon's fishing. "O Master San, you're all grown up sudden'!" "Just five foot eight, Onnie. Ling Varian's five foot nine; so's Cousin Den." "But don't you be goin' round the cuttin' camps up valley, neither. You're too young to be hearin' the awful way these news hands do talk.
"I'm speakin' soft. Himself's not able to hear," she said, her eyes half shut. She rocked slowly on the amazing feet. "Give me a pistol, your Honor. I'll be for sleepin' outside his door this night." "You'll go to bed and keep your door open. If you hear a sound, yell like perdition. Send Bill in here. Say I want him. That's all. There's no danger, Onnie; but I'm taking no chances."
Wish Onnie 'd marry dad. Make her, can't you? Hi, Reu! I'm eating at the house. The beef's on, and dad wants fried onions. Why won't she have dad? You're grown up." He trotted beside the mare noiselessly, chewing a birch spray, a hand on his friend's knee. "She says she won't get married. I expect she'll stay here as long as she lives." "I suppose so, but I wish she'd marry dad," said Ling.
"Twelve, your Honor," said Onnie, "an' me the first to go off, bein' that I'm not so pretty a man would be marryin' me that day or this. An' if herself is content, I am pleased entirely." "You're a good cook," said Rawling, honestly. "How old are you?" He had been puzzling about this; she was so wonderfully ugly that age was difficult to conjecture. But she startled him.
Poor girl, she's faithful as a dog!" They mounted softly and beheld her, huddled in a blanket, mountainous, curled outside Sanford's closed door, just opposite the head of the stairs. Rawling stooped over the heap and spoke to the tangle of blue-shadowed hair. "Onnie Killelia, go to bed." "Leave me be, your Honor. I'm " Sleep cut the protest. The rattles sounded feebly, and Rawling stood up.
Pete says the village smells, and has taken to the woods. Onnie says the new Irish are black scum of Limerick, and Jim Varian's language isn't printable. The old men are complaining, and altogether I feel like Louis XVI in 1789. About every day I have to send for the sheriff and have some thug arrested.
He sat up, tearing the blankets back, because some one moved in the house, and the rain could be heard more loudly, as if a new window were open. He swung his legs free. Some one breathed heavily in the hall. Rawling clutched his revolver, and the cold of it stung. This might be Onnie, any one; but he put his finger on the switch.
Lives in Seattle, Wash. Surprise in Perspective, A. BEER, THOMAS. Born in 1889, Council Bluffs, Iowa. Educated at MacKenzie School, Dobbs Ferry, N. Y., Yale College , Columbia Law School. Now in National army. First story, "The Brothers," Century, February, 1917. Chief interest: the theatre. Lives at Yonkers, N. Y. *Brothers, The. *Onnie. BOTTOME, PHYLLIS. Born of American parents.
He loved Sanford as imaginative men can who are still young, and the ugly girl's idolatry seemed natural. Yet this was very charming, the simple room, the drowsy, slender child, curled in his sheets, surrounded with song. "Thank you, Onnie," said Sanford. "I suppose she loved him a lot. It's a nice song. Goo' night." As Onnie passed her master, he saw the stupid eyes full of tears.
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