Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: August 6, 2024
"It's me, it's me!" replied Lem, wheeling savagely about. For a short space of time nothing but the splash of the waves could be heard as they rolled white on the shore. A change passed over Flea, and she clutched fiercely at her brother's fingers. It was as if she had said, "Help me, Flukey, if ye can!" But she did not speak the words; only stared at the hook-armed man with strained eyes.
"I don't want to stay without Flukey!" she cried. "I ain't a tellin' ye what ye want to do; only how the shadders run. But that's a weary day off. The good land be yers and Flukey's for the seekin' of it." "Air Flukey goin' to be catched a thievin'?" "Yep, some day." "With Pappy Lon?" "Nope, with yerself, Flea." "I ain't no thief," replied Flea sulkily.
In the gathering twilight the two came upon the cemetery of Sleepy Hollow, and here, tired, hungry, and despondent, they sat down to rest. "It's gettin' night," said Flukey drearily. "I wonder where we'll sleep?" "Can't we squirm in this dead man's yard 'thout nobody seein' us?" asked Flea, casting her eyes over the graves. "Ye can't walk no more tonight. I ain't hungry, anyhow."
"I don't go one step," growled Lon, "till I get them kids! Where's Flukey?" He made a move toward the door; but Horace thrust his big form in front of him. "The boy shall not know that you are here," said he. "I shall keep it from him because he's ill, and because a great worry like this might seriously harm him. It might even kill him." Lon's temper raced away with his judgment.
Especially did she cling to Mildred Vandecar, and raised in the golden-haired daughter of the governor an idol at whose shrine she worshiped. One Saturday morning in the latter part of March, Mildred Vandecar persuaded her mother to allow her to go, accompanied by Katherine, to the Shellington home. They found Ann reading aloud to the twins, Flukey resting on the divan.
Flea had backed away from the pole, still holding the small dog; but, before she could get to Flukey, other boys were surrounding him, asking how he had done it. A sudden shouting came from hundreds of throats. One voice raised above the clamor: "Anyone catching the greased pig, Squeaky, can have him. He's a fine roaster! After him, Boys!"
There was a dull roar and rush of the wind, as it tossed the lake into gigantic whitecaps, which added to the girl's suffering. Her young soul was smarting beneath the scathing injustice. As she watched Lem and Lon pull away, with Flukey at the rudder, Flea squatted on the beach, bent her head, and wept long and wildly.
I love him so! And he's so good! And poor little Flukey is so sick, though he's gettin' better, and if I'm happy, then he'll get well! Don't ye love us one little bit, Pappy Lon?" She loosened her hold upon the table and neared the squatter. Cronk brushed his face awkwardly.
When they were standing side by side in the darkness of the barge-deck, Cronk spoke. "Lem," he said, "I told ye before that Flea ain't like Flukey. She'd just as soon throw herself into that water as she'd look at ye. She ain't afraid of nothin' but you, and ye've got to keep yer hands offen her till I git her foul, do ye hear?"
The girl broke the quietude now and then by muttering softly the names on the gravestones over which her eyes roved: "EVERETT BRIMBECOMB ONE YEAR OLD BELOVED SON OF AGNES AND HAROLD BRIMBECOMB. RESTING IN JESUS" Flea read this over several times, and turned to Flukey. "Who's Jesus, Fluke?" she asked. The boy raised his head and opened his eyes languidly. "What? What'd ye say, Flea?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking