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

"The Forfeit"

Well, if folks are right they'll
just learn their lessons all they can without kicking, and if they get
a hunch on, why, I don't figger it's likely to make 'em harder. I've
been learning my lesson a whole week now, and, yes, I've got it right.
Oh, I've had to work. It hasn't been easy. And somehow, my Daddy, all
these lovely, lovely gowns, and the thought of the generous hands that
gave them to me, have helped me to learn quicker, and--better."
She paused again. Their horses were ambling leisurely along over the
sandy trail. They moved together, side by side, in a closeness of
companionship which perhaps symbolized that of their riders.
"I jest don't know what to say, Nan. I surely don't," Bud lumbered at
last with a half-bewildered drawing together of his heavy brows. "It
don't seem I ken even think right--about it."
Nan gazed up into his big troubled face with the frank eyes that looked
wholly untroubled.
"Don't try, my Daddy. Guess I've done all that's necessary that way.
Maybe I know just how you're feeling, because I know how I'm feeling.


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