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