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

"The Forfeit"

Your poor worried face had lost all its smile, and your eyes
just looked as if you'd been lying awake nights an' nights, an' you'd
seen every sort of nightmare ever thought of in the world of dreams.
It made me kind of sorry, and I just couldn't wait for you to make that
big talk you figgered on."
Bud was gazing far out ahead at the brilliant sky-line where the crests
of grass-land cut the line in perfect undulations. Nan's gently drawn
sigh was like the stab of a knife in his heart. His feelings at that
moment were too deep for words. And so the girl went on in a voice
that struck fresh chords of sympathy in the soul of the man who
idolized her.
"It seems to me, my Daddy, that we often think things that a great big
Someone don't guess are good for us to think. We sort of set up hopes
we've no right to. An' when we do, why, we've got to be handed our
lessons. Sometimes the lesson is pretty tough, sometimes I don't guess
it's a deal worse than a pin-prick. Anyway, lessons aren't joyous
things at best, not even pin-pricks.


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