Homespun and Gold

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Macmillan Company, 1920 - 301 pages

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Page 59 - Lonzo done over. Ain't it grand ? ' " Alma was staring at him as if she did not yet fully understand what manner of man he was. "Why, 'Lonzo," she said, " I never see anybody like you." | "No," said Alonzo, " I never see anybody like you neither — so pretty nor so soft nor so just right every way." "An" there's worse to tell you," said Alma. She was not crying now, but looking at him with wide eyes that besought forgiveness. "He kissed me, 'Lonzo. Three times he kissed me. An' I never so much as...
Page 175 - Course I want it," said Althea. "I guess anybody'd know I wanted it if they see how poor I be. That's the trouble. I study on it all the time — what I'd do here an' what I'd do there. I dunno how much money he's got; but whatever 'tis, I've spent it in my mind twenty times over. An' I feel like a murderer an' a thief, an' I can't stan' it no longer. An' if you've got the leastest bit o' compassion in you, you'll go an' make up with your uncle an' take care of him an' let him will you all he's got.
Page 59 - " I'm awful glad you picked up the furniture," said Alonzo cheerfully, " an' glad I know how to do it over. We'll have it in our house, an' every time you see the bureau you'll laugh an' say to yourself, ' That's the first piece 'Lonzo done over. Ain't it grand? ' " Alma was staring at him as if she did not yet fully understand what manner of man he was. " Why, 'Lonzo," she said, " I never see anybody like you.
Page 173 - I'd ha' had a fire in the sittin'-room," he said, " if I'd known you was comin'. But we can't wait for it to get het up in there. I'm as holler as a horn." Now he brought out a kettle and set it on the stove. Althea could not manage her curiosity. She got up and peered. It was full of something hard and pale. "Why," said she. "I know what that is. It's corn porridge." " Sure," said Wellman. " I make a whole iron kittle up to once. Sometimes I freeze VOL. CXXVII.— No. 760-68 a string into a quart...
Page 48 - You come up to the store with me and pick you out a blue one.'" "What 'cl she say?" Alma inquired. There was a faint gleam of interest in her eyes. Alonzo laughed. '"Why/ she says, "Lonzo, I'm ashamed of you. An' your father ain't been gone a week.' 'Well,' says I, 'mother, you ride over to the store with me an' pick you out a blue calico, or I'll go alone an' buy you a red one. An
Page 160 - I tell you, Mr. Cobb," she said, "it's a sin an' a shame for you to be here alone, anyway, sick as you be. You'd ought to have a nurse." The smile had disappeared. Althea. looking at the old face, wished she had not dared so much. "When'd you move here?" he inquired, brusquely. "I been here 'most eight months now," Althea told him, glad to embark on a topic so little likely to offend.
Page 177 - I sent the doctor round the first day I got the news, an' he told me 'twan't palsy no more'n 'twas chicken-pox. Doctor knows Uncle Cy. 'He's playin' it on ye, Wellman,' doctor says to me. 'He's well as ever he is. I bet you when there's nobody there he gets up an' does pretty much as he's mind to. But if he sees anybody comin
Page 58 - I could come up here an' work an' you not stop me. I've done the bureau, an' I'm goin' to do the chairs an' table an' the desk. An' they're all yourn, darlin' dear. Course they're yourn." Alma turned and faced him. She had grown stiff from head to foot, and her teeth chattered as if with cold. " Look here,
Page 175 - It's my immortal soul." Wellman was gazing at her in a perplexity half alarm. Althea was perfectly aware that he thought her crazy. She hastened to reassure him. " Why," said she, wiping her eyes, desperately, " he's kep' talkin' about his will. He's as much as promised he'd make it, an' make it in my favor." " Well," said the man quietly, " don't you want he should?" " Course I want it," said Althea. " I guess anybody'd know I wanted it if they see how poor I be. That's the trouble. I study on...
Page 158 - you think you're all right ?" She had put a great stick into the stove, and left the tea-kettle on the flat place at the back, and piled a comforter and a blanket on a chair where the sick man could reach them. She had given him his simple supper and washed the dishes, and now she was going home for the night. Cyrus Cobb was an old man, with a face seamed by a thousand wrinkles, all tending to the point of puckering and weazening.

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