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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Shavings"

"
Jed understood. She might have been surprised to realize how
clearly he understood. She was proud, and it was plain to see that
she had been very proud of her brother. And Middleford had been
her home where she and her husband had spent their few precious
years together, where her child was born, where, after her brother
came, she had watched his rise to success and the apparent
assurance of a brilliant future. She had begun to be happy once
more. Then came the crash, and shame and disgrace instead of pride
and confidence. Jed's imagination, the imagination which was quite
beyond the comprehension of those who called him the town crank,
grasped it all--or, at least, all its essentials. He nodded
slowly.
"I see," he said. "Yes, yes, I see. . . . Hum."
"Of course, any one must see. And to go away, to some city or town
where we are not known--where could we go? What should we live on?
And yet we can't stay here; there is nothing for Charles to do."
"Um. . . . He was a--what did you say his trade was?"
"He was a bond broker, a kind of banker."
"Eh? . . . A kind of banker. . . . Sho! Did he work in a bank?"
"Why, yes, I told you he did, in Wisconsin, where he and I used to
live."
"Hum. . . . Pretty smart at it, too, seems to me you said he was?"
"Yes, very capable indeed."
"I want to know.


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