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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Shavings"

Jed did not
wait. He was by this time at least as nervous as she was and
considerably more distressed and embarrassed. He rose from the box
and extended a protesting hand.
"Now, now, ma'am," he begged. "Now, Mrs. Armstrong, please--please
don't say any more. It ain't necessary, honest it ain't. She--
she--that child she didn't tell me much of anything anyhow, and she
didn't mean to tell that. And if you knew how ashamed and--and
mean I've felt ever since to think I let myself hear that much! I
hope--I do hope you don't think I tried to get her to tell me
anything. I do hope you don't think that."
His agitation was so acute and so obvious that she looked at him in
wonder for a moment. Then she hastened to reassure him.
"Don't distress yourself, Mr. Winslow," she said, smiling sadly.
"I haven't known you very long but I have already learned enough
about you to know that you are an honorable man. If I did not know
that I shouldn't be here now. It is true that I did not mean for
you or any one here in Orham to learn of my--of our trouble, and if
Babbie had not told you so much I probably should never have spoken
to you about it. The poor child's conscience troubled her so last
evening that she came crying to me and confessed, and it is because
I gathered from her that she had told enough to make you at least
guess the truth that I am here now.


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