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Cressy by Bret Harte
page 33 of 196 (16%)
at the door with an odd half-lazy defiance in her manner, which the
master could not understand except upon the hypothesis that she had
been listening. She had already changed her elaborate toilet for a long
clinging, coarse blue gown, that accented the graceful curves of her
slight, petticoat-less figure. Nodding her head towards the master, she
said, "Howdy?" and turned to her mother, who practically ignored their
personal acquaintance. "Cressy," she said, "Dad's gone and left his
Sharps' yer, d'ye mind takin' it along to meet him, afore he passes the
Boundary corner. Ye might tell him the teacher's yer, wantin' to see
him."

"One moment," said the master, as the young girl carelessly stepped to
the corner and lifted the weapon. "Let ME take it. It's all on my way
back to school and I'll meet him."

Mrs. McKinstry looked perturbed. Cressy opened her clear eyes on the
master with evident surprise. "No, Mr. Ford," said Mrs. McKinstry, with
her former maternal manner. "Ye'd better not mix yourself up with these
yer doin's. Ye've no call to do it, and Cressy has; it's all in the
family. But it's outer YOUR line, and them Harrison whelps go to your
school. Fancy the teacher takin' weppins betwixt and between!"

"It's fitter work for the teacher than for one of his scholars, and a
young lady at that," said Mr. Ford gravely, as he took the rifle from
the hands of the half-amused, half-reluctant girl. "It's quite safe with
me, and I promise I shall deliver it into Mr. McKinstry's hands and none
other."

"Perhaps it wouldn't be ez likely to be gin'rally noticed ez it would
if one of US carried it," murmured Mrs. McKinstry in confidential
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