"Are you hurt?" he repeated, anxiously, though she
looked anything but a hurt woman.
"If I am," she chirped, cheerily, "I'm not hurt half as bad as I would
have been if the squire had beat you, deacon. Now don't you worry
about me. Let's hurry back to town so the squire won't get another
chance, with no place for me to jump."
And the deacon? Well, well, with the lines in the crook of his elbow
the deacon held out his arms to the widow and----. The sisters at the
next meeting of the Sewing Society were unanimously of the opinion
that any woman who would risk her life like that for a husband was
mighty anxious.
GIDEON
By Wells Hastings (1878- )
[From _The Century Magazine_, April, 1914; copyright, 1914, by The
Century Co.; republished by the author's permission.]
"An' de next' frawg dat houn' pup seen, he pass him by wide."
The house, which had hung upon every word, roared with laughter, and
shook with a storming volley of applause. Gideon bowed to right and to
left, low, grinning, assured comedy obeisances; but as the laughter
and applause grew he shook his head, and signaled quietly for the
drop.
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