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Wilson, Harry Leon, 1867-1939

"The Boss of Little Arcady"

To-morrow, when every one knows it,
Potts might be rash enough to stay and brave it out. Being advised
to-day, privately, and thus afforded a chance to fade gracefully into
the great bounding West, he may use his common sense. Now then, officer,
do your duty!"
Our hero arose from his chair, buttoned his coat, passed a hand
caressingly over his hip pocket, took the proof from me, and stalked
grimly out.
"So the lady is really coming?" I asked, as Billy's footsteps died away
down the wooden stairs.
"She is, the lady and her little son," said Solon, resuming his walk up
and down the room. "She is coming all the way from Boston,
Massachusetts. And I don't believe she quite knows what she's coming to.
She speaks in a strange manner of her hope that she may be able to do
good among us, and in her last letter she wants to know if I have ever
seen a little book called 'One Hundred Common Errors in Speaking and
Writing.' She seems to have the missionary instinct, as nearly as I can
judge."
He paused in his walk and lowered his voice impressively.
"Between you and me, Cal,--you know I've had about six letters from
her,--it's just possible that Potts had his reasons.


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