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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Shavings"

He had
little waiting on customers to do now, for most of the summer
people had gone. His small visitor and he had many long and, to
them, interesting conversations.
Other visitors to the shop, those who knew him well, were surprised
and amused to find him on such confidential and intimate terms with
a child. Gabe Bearse, after one short call, reported about town
that crazy Shavin's Winslow had taken up with a young-one just
about as crazy as he was.
"There she set," declared Gabriel, "on a box, hugging a broken-
nosed doll baby up to her and starin' at me and Shavin's as if we
was some kind of curiosities, as you might say. Well, one of us
was; eh? Haw, haw! She didn't say a word and Shavin's he never
said nothin' and I felt as if I was preaching in a deef and dumb
asylum. Finally, I happened to look at her and I see her lips
movin'. 'Well,' says I, 'you CAN talk, can't you, sis, even if
it's only to yourself. What was you talkin' to yourself about,
eh?' She didn't seem to want to answer; just sort of reddened up,
you know; but I kept right after her. Finally she owned up she was
countin'. 'What was you countin'?' says I. Well, she didn't want
to tell that, neither. Finally I dragged it out of her that she
was countin' how many words I'd said since I started to tell about
Melissy Busteed and what she said about Luther Small's wife's aunt,
the one that's so wheezed up with asthma and Doctor Parker don't
seem to be able to do nothin' to help.


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