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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Shavings"

I--"
"But, Jed, why did you do it--for me? I have heard of men doing
such things for--for women, sacrificing themselves to save a woman
they were in love with. You read of that in books and--yes, I
think I can understand that. But for you to do it--for ME!"
Jed waved both hands this time. "Sshh! sshh!" he cried, in frantic
protest. His face was a brilliant crimson and his embarrassment
and confusion were so acute as to be laughable, although Phillips
was far from laughing. "Sshh, sshh, Charlie," pleaded Jed. "You--
you don't know what you're talkin' about. You're makin' an awful
fuss about nothin'. Sshh! Yes, you are, too. I didn't have any
notion of tellin' Sam I stole that four hundred when I first gave
it to him. I was goin' to tell him I found it, that's all. That
would keep him bottled up, I figgered, and satisfied and then--then
you and I'd have a talk and I'd tell you what I'd done and--well,
some day maybe you could pay me back the money; don't you see? I
do hope," he added anxiously, "you won't hold it against me, for
thinkin' maybe you had taken it. Course I'd ought to have known
better. I would have known better if I'd been anybody but Shavin's
Winslow. HE ain't responsible."
"Hush, Jed, hush! But why did you say you had--kept it?"
"Eh? Oh, that was Sam's doin's. He commenced to ask questions,
and, the first thing I knew, he had me on the spider fryin' over a
hot fire.


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