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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Shavings"


Charles looked at him. "Do you mean to tell me, Jed Winslow," he
said, "that you would lend me five hundred dollars without any
security or without knowing in the least what I wanted it for?"
"Why--why, of course. 'Twouldn't be any of my business what you
wanted it for, would it?"
"Humph! Have you done much lending of that kind?"
"Eh? . . . Um. . . . Well, I used to do consider'ble, but Sam he
kind of put his foot down and said I shouldn't do any more. But I
don't HAVE to mind him, you know, although I generally do because
it's easier--and less noisy," he added, with a twinkle in his eye.
"Well, you ought to mind him; he's dead right, of course. You're a
good fellow, Jed, but you need a guardian."
Jed shook his head sadly. "I hate to be so unpolite as to call
your attention to it," he drawled, "but I've heard somethin' like
that afore. Up to now I ain't found any guardian that needs me,
that's the trouble. And if I want to lend you five hundred
dollars, Charlie, I'm goin' to. Oh, I'm a divil of a feller when I
set out to be, desperate and reckless, I am."
Charlie laughed, but he put his hand on Jed's shoulder, "You're a
brick, I know that," he said, "and I'm a million times obliged to
you. But I was only joking; I don't need any five hundred."
"Eh? . . . You don't? . . . Why, you said--"
"Oh, I--er--need some new clothes and things and I was talking
foolishness, that's all.


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