"No, this is
Miz Mayfield." Mose shook hands with Lou, then with Mrs. Mayfield, and
turning to Tom, to whom he was now presented, shook the stool which Tom
held in his hand and upon which he was about to sit, took it from him
and sat down. "All h--h--h--h--hands w--w--well, I h--h--hope."
"Well as usual," Margaret answered, sitting down in the rocker. "Why
ain't you folks been over?"
"Been a t--t--t--tryin' t--t--t--t--t--to git off. Granny sot
t--t--t--the feather b--b--b--bed a--f--f--fire night afore
l--l--l--last an' come mighty n--n--n--nigh b--b--b--burnin' up."
"Why, you don't say so?" Margaret exclaimed.
[Illustration: "YES, I D-D-D-DO SAY SO, A-A-A-ATTER A F-F-F-FASHION."]
"Yes I d--d--d--do say so a--a--a--atter a f--f--f--fashion."
"How far do you live from here Mr. Blake?" Tom inquired.
"Oh, 'bout t--t--t--three sights and a g--g--g--good long
w--w--w--walk."
"Charmingly indefinite," said Mrs. Mayfield and Jim, his eyes set,
nodded to her. Tom declared himself willing to bet that Mose was a good
fellow, "and I don't want to be impertinent," he ventured to remark,
"but do you know they can cure stammering now? They can.
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