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Cullum, Ridgwell, [pseud.], 1867-1943

"The Forfeit"

He did not even
see her.
"I'm--I'm sort of tired, Daddy," she began.
But Bud held up his hand. There was a rattle at the number board. Nan
understood. She waited. Then it seemed as if the crowd had timed
itself for one unanimous shout.
"Sassafras!"
It came with a sort of electric thrill for the girl. In one wild
moment all her shadows seemed to clear.
"Sassafras!" she cried.
And her father's deep gray eyes beamed down upon her
"You've sure guessed right, little gal," he said. "An' I--hope it was
dollar time."
At that instant Jeff thrust his way through the crowd, and the warmth
of his smile flooded the girl's heart with happiness.
"Say, Nan," he cried, holding out his hand with an enthusiasm that was
hardly to be expected in one who has lost, "you got us all beat a mile.
You surely have. Sassafras. My old Sassafras. Say, who'd 'a' thought
it?" Nan's hand remained clasped in his, and she seemed to have no
desire to withdraw it. Jeff looked round into Bud's face. "Do you
know what she's won? Do you, Nan?" he went on to the girl again.


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