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From: | Elvira Moody |
Subject: | [Beaver-devel] too |
Date: | Wed, 20 Sep 2006 00:34:29 -0500 |
Edd, I seen the other day that Miss Lucys boots
wasnt hobnailed,spoke up Denmeade. On the moment Lucy was slippingon her gauntlets.
Deeper than sentiment, stronger thaneducation, this passion claimed her for the
moment.
Then she did not discover her usualfluency of
speech. At the same instant she sawsomething move, a white and brown object flashing
low down.
Nope, kids; you wait till Im ready to cut down a
bee tree not far away,he said, to appease them.
Denmeade would approve of some one else
accompanying them.
This hyar mesa is high an dry, warm in winter an
cool insummer. Why couldnt we go and have a nice time, dance alittle, and leave
early, without what you hinted? Denmeade and Allie were plodding on ahead. The
frivolous Mertie really liked him, as anyone could plainly see.
Suddenly sheremembered the proclivity for playing
tricks natural to these backwoodsboys. Wal, Lucy, I see ma an Allie have worked an
old trick on you, hedrawled.
Then she did not discover her usualfluency of
speech.
Then with a hammer he poundedsmall-headed hobnails
into the soles. These red and white beans have foretold my fate.
Yet Denmeade pointed out tracks in every dusty
trail. But fact was I wanted to see her slide around some.
JoeDenmeade stood near, gazing down upon her. Lucy
wisely saw nothing, said nothing, though she was stirred tospeak.
In fact, not many years hadpassed since Denmeade
had used a plough hewn from the fork of an oak.
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