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But Peggy switched her small skirts in an entirely different phase of femininity. "You never heard me holler," she said in a tone that was skilful admixture of defiance and tentative propitiation. "'Cause you had your head hid in Jennie's back," answered the General coolly unbeguiled.
Lisbeth was never well again, and what time she understood all that Olwen had done for her, she melted into tears. "I should have gone but for you," she averred. "The money's Jennie's, which is the same as I had it and under the mattress, and the house is Jennie's." "She's fortunate," returned Olwen. "She'll never want for ten shillings a week which it will fetch. You are kind indeed."
"That's the idee, son; it's impossible to go into painful details, 'cause I ain't in Dave's or Jennie's confidence enough to round 'em up; but you onderstands what I means.
The killing of a man named Sellers, and the combination of circumstances that had made the tragedy a memorable regret, had marked, if not a change, at least a cessation in Duane's activities. He had trailed Sellers to kill him for the supposed abducting of Jennie. He had trailed him long after he had learned Sellers traveled alone. Duane wanted absolute assurance of Jennie's death.
There was something of unaccustomed tenderness in the compassionate tones of Jennie's voice that touched the girl, for, after a brief and ineffectual effort at self-control, she broke down and wept. To her pitying listener she told her story. She had been betrothed to a soldier whose regiment was stationed in the Burg.
He could go out at night, he told Sadie, and slip out the back way, so that no one would see him; he would not go into crowds or brightly lighted streets, so there would be no chance of his being recognized. There was a fellow he absolutely had to see, who owed him some money; it was way over on the other side of the city that was why he rejected Jennie's offer to accompany him.
All the rest of the night he worked hard, trying to find a white clover leaf that exactly matched the one that Jennie Junebug had carried for a fan. But every single clover leaf was different from Jennie's in one way or another. Freddie Firefly had hoped that it would be so. For if he had found one precisely like Jennie Junebug's, he would have had to take it to her, as he had promised.
"'That's whatever, says Dan Boggs, lookin' red an' truculent, 'this yere Tucson Jennie's a angel. "But thar we be, up ag'inst it, an' not a man knows a thing to do to squar' the deal with Dave's wife. We-alls, calls for drinks all 'round, an' sets about an' delib'rates. At last Dave speaks up in a low-sperited way. "'I reckons she done jumps the game for good, he says.
Modestly she accepted the tribute to her uncanny power; obligingly she assisted her friend to pack; martyr-like she acquiesced in Jennie's decision that the first train after breakfast would be none too early to bear her to that long-coveted delight a baby sister. Moreover, she cannily advised her friend as to the mode of proceeding.
However, when men make saving money the sole end of their existence, their life soon becomes as uninteresting as the multiplication table, and people ceased to care about the Denton farm, especially as Jennie married a wealthy squire over the mountains, and left her brothers to work out alone their new devices and economies. Jennie's marriage was a happy one, but she did not forget her brother.
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