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

"The Forfeit"

"Y'see, ther's a deal to fix. Seein'
he's president this year, why, I guess it's up to him to kep his ladle
busy in the soup."
He moved off the stoop and took his horse from the waiting man. He
swung himself into the saddle with an agility which belied his years.
He waved one great hand in response to the manager's deferential bow,
and turned his horse away. In a moment Bud and Nan were riding side by
side down the wide Avenue.
It was a long time before either attempted to break the silence between
them. They had even reached the outskirts of the city before Nan
broached the subject from which her father admittedly shrank.
"I'm glad Jeff didn't get up to see us off," she said imply. Then she
laughed softly. "Y'see, Daddy, there's times for most things; and
'good-byes' in the early morning are a bit like cold baths in winter."
Bud eyed his daughter with a quick sidelong glance, and then continued
his survey of the trail ahead as it lifted over a gentle grassy slope.
They were passing the last houses of the town, and ahead lay the tawny
fields which made the country one of the greatest pastures in the world.


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