Vandemark's Folly by Herbert Quick
page 137 of 416 (32%)
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!" |
|