The Lonesome Trail and Other Stories by B. M. Bower
page 45 of 199 (22%)
page 45 of 199 (22%)
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PART FOUR Weary clattered up to the school-house door to find it erupting divers specimens of young America--by adoption, some of them. He greeted each one cheerfully by name and waited upon his horse in the shade. Close behind the last sun-bonnet came Miss Satterly, key in hand. Evidently she had no intention of lingering, that night; Weary smiled down upon her tentatively and made a hasty guess as to her state of mind--a very important factor in view of what he had come to say. "It's awful hot, Schoolma'am; if I were you I'd wait a while--till the sun lets up a little." To his unbounded surprise, Miss Satterly calmly sat down upon the doorstep. Weary promptly slid out of the saddle and sat down beside her, thankful that the step was not a wide one. "You've been unmercifully hard to locate since the dance," he complained. "I like to lost my job, chasing over this way, when I was supposed to be headed another direction. I came by here last night at five minutes after four, and you weren't in sight anywhere; was yesterday a holiday?" "You probably didn't look in the window," said the schoolma'am. "I was writing letters here till after five." "With the door shut and locked?" "The wind blew so," explained Miss Satterly, lamely. "And that lock--" |
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