Winter Evening Tales by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr
page 91 of 256 (35%)
page 91 of 256 (35%)
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the still black bayous, he soon came to a little clearing in the
cypress. Here a young man was standing in an attitude of expectancy--a very handsome man clothed in the picturesque costume of a ranchero. He leaned upon his rifle, but betrayed both anger and impatience in the rapid switching to and fro of his riding-whip. "Plato, she has not come!" He said it reproachfully, as if the negro was to blame. "I done tole you, Massa Davie, dat Miss Lulu neber do noffing ob dat kind; ole massa 'ticlarly objects to Miss Lulu seeing you at de present time." "My father objects to every one I like." "Ef Massa Davie jist 'lieve it, ole massa want ebery thing for his good." "You oversize that statement considerably, Plato. Tell my father, if he asks you, that I am going with Jim Whaley, and give Miss Lulu this letter." "I done promise ole massa neber to gib Miss Lulu any letter or message from you, Massa Davie." In a moment the youth's handsome face was flaming with ungovernable passion, and he lifted his riding-whip to strike. "For de Lord Jesus' sake don't strike, Massa Davie! Dese arms done carry you when you was de littlest little chile. Don't strike me!" |
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