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Vandemark's Folly by Herbert Quick
page 137 of 416 (32%)
bold as brass. I was staring at the astonishing horse, the queer wagon,
and the whole outfit with more curiosity than manners, I reckon, when
she came into the circle, and caught my unmannerly eye.

"Well," she said, her face reddening under the tan, "if you see anything
green throw your hat at it! Sellin' gawp-seed, or what is your
business?"

"I beg your pardon," "I meant no offense," and even "Excuse me" were
things I had never learned to say. I had learned to fight any one who
took offense at me; and if they didn't like my style they could lump
it--such was my code of manners, and the code of my class. To beg pardon
was to knuckle under--and it took something more than I was master of in
the way of putting on style to ask to be excused, even if the element of
back-down were eliminated. Remember, I had been "educated" on the canal.
So I tried to look her out of countenance, grew red, retreated, and went
about some sort of needless work without a word--completely defeated. I
thought she seemed rather to like this; and that evening I went over and
offered Mrs. Fewkes some butter and milk, of which I had a plenty.

I was soon on good terms with the Fewkes family. Old Man Fewkes told me
he was going to Negosha--a region of which I had never heard. It was
away off to the westward, he said; and years afterward I made up my mind
that the name was made up of the two words Nebraska and Dakota--not very
well joined together. Mrs. Fewkes was not strong for Negosha; and when
Fewkes offered to go to Texas, she objected because it was so far.

"Why," said the old man indignantly, "it hain't only a matter of fifteen
hundred mile! An' the trees is in constant varder!"

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