It's only a story-paper."
He staggered back as if she had thrown over him a pail of cold water.
His hair looked limp, and dew-beads of emotion stood out upon his brow.
He took a step forward and limped as if he had lost a part of his
strength.
"What, Margaret, ain't news when a man shoots fo' an' stobs three? Now
you air a woman of fine sense. I've allus said that, and for mercy sake
don't come a tellin' me that you don't know what news is. Scold me
whenever you feel like it, but don't come a tellin' me that."
She didn't look up. "But Jasper, it ain't true."
"Ain't true? Here it is, right here. Look." He shuffled over to her and
spreading out the paper put his finger at the place whence the vital
spark had fled. "Look, spelled out jest like in a almanic. See fur
yo'se'f."
Then came her voice, cold and cutting to his hopes: "Oh, I know it's
thar well enough. What I mean is it's all made up--it's a tale."
"A tale? What's that? What do you mean by a tale? Do you mean that it
didn't happen?"
"Yes, that's exactly what I mean.
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