You kin thank your stars you hain't got
wimmin's notions to worry you, Scattergood."
"How d'ye stand on the proposition to have the town build a sidewalk up
the hill apast the Congregational church, Deacon?"
The deacon pounded on the porch with his nearly finished leg, and grew
red in the face. "All the doin's of ol' man Hooper. Connivin' and
squillickin' around for his own ends. Lemme tell you, Scattergood, no
town meetin' of Coldriver'll ever vote sich a steal only over my dead
body. Jest you tell that far and wide."
Business had been almost at a standstill for Scattergood. The only
sales he made were of small articles his competitors had forgotten or
neglected to stock. He had not taken in enough money for a month to pay
for the wear and tear on his fixtures. Coldriver was coming to set him
down as a failure and a black disappointment; but it marveled that he
took no action whatever and showed no signs of worry. His eyes were as
blue and his manner as humorous as it had ever been. Most of his
conversation seemed to be on the subject of the sidewalk past the
Congregational church, and it was carried on in low tones, and never to
more than one individual at a time.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135