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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Shavings"

The
only gentleman there was yourself."
Jed shook his head.
"If you said that around the village here," he drawled, "somebody
might be for havin' you sent to the asylum up to Taunton. Course
I'm much obliged to you, but, honest, you hadn't ought to take the
risk."
Mrs. Armstrong smiled slightly, but hers was a forced smile. What
she had just heard, told in her guest's quaint language as a
statement of fact and so obviously with no thought of effect, had
touched her more than any plea for sympathy could have done. She
felt as if she had a glimpse into this man's simple, trusting,
sensitive soul. And with that glimpse came a new feeling toward
him, a feeling of pity--yes, and more than that, a feeling of
genuine respect.
He sighed again and rose to go. "I declare," he said,
apologetically, "I don't know what I've been botherin' you with all
this for. As I said, I've never told that yarn to anybody afore
and I never meant to tell it. I--"
But she interrupted him. "Please don't apologize," she said. "I'm
very glad you told it to me."
"I cal'late you think it's a queer reason for lettin' this house
stand empty all this time."
"No, I think it was a very good one, and Babbie and I are honored
to know that your estimate of us is sufficiently high to overcome
your prejudice."
"Well, ma'am, I--I guess it's goin' to be all right.


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