Sandy and the Schoolmistress in Bret Harte, and I thought it would be
a good idea to stretch out in the sun and pretend to be helpless; so I
threw my hat on the ground and lay down, with my head in the blazing
heat, in the most graceful position I could get at, and I tried to put
a look of pained regret on my face, as if I was dreaming of my lost
boyhood and me mother. I thought, perhaps, the Girl would pity me,
and I felt sure she'd stoop and pick up my hat and put it gently over
my poor troubled head. Then I was going to become conscious for a
moment, and look hopelessly round, and into her eyes, and then start
and look sorrowful and ashamed, and stagger to my feet, taking off my
hat like the Silver King does to the audience when he makes his first
appearance drunk on the stage; and then I was going to reel off,
trying to walk as straight as I could. And next day I was going to
clean up my teeth and nails and put on a white shirt, and start to be
a new man henceforth.

"Well, as I lay there with my eyes shut, I heard the footsteps come
up and stop, and heard 'em whisper, and I thought I heard the Pretty
Girl say `Poor fellow!' or something that sounded like that; and just
then I got a God-almighty poke in the ribs with an umbrella--at least
I suppose it was aimed for my ribs; but women are bad shots, and the
point of the umbrella caught me in the side, just between the bottom
rib and the hip-bone, and I sat up with a click, like the blade of a
pocketknife.

"The other lassie was the big square-faced woman. The Pretty Girl
looked rather more frightened and disgusted than sentimental, but she
had plenty of pluck, and soon pulled herself together. She said I
ought to be ashamed of myself, a great big man like me, lying there
in the dust like a drunken tramp--an eyesore and a disgrace to all the