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Idle Hour Stories by Eugenia Dunlap Potts
page 9 of 204 (04%)

"Confound you!" said Frank, spluttering about and shaking himself as
vigorously as the dog. "I'll be blowed if I ever go on such a fool's
errand as this."

"Why you are pretty well 'blowed'" I said, with a poor attempt to be
funny, but immensely relieved.

"I never was so glad to see anybody in my life!" and I meant it.

"There it is," he said; "make much of it" as he cleverly flipped a
little white missive over to me. "Such billing and cooing I never want
to see again. Regular spoons, by jove! Can't go to sleep till she knows
you have not been melted, or washed away, or something. And Cato must
come along to see that her precious brother doesn't get lost. Ugh! Lie
down over there, old fellow!" Then to me he said; "Here help me out of
this wet thing."

But I was engrossed just then, so ridding him of the offending garment,
the broad-shouldered young athlete strode about the room in mock
impatience.

"Heavens! what a night!" he exclaimed. "What time does your train pass?
Ten? Just three minutes. I guess I'll stay; but we will have that young
damsel floating down here if she doesn't hear pretty soon."

"Hello, Cato, what's the matter?" as the dog gave a low growl, "what's
that in the corner, Bowen?"

The dog continued to growl and look suspiciously as the young fellow
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