There had been a
massacre in the oasis--the Moor had been hurled headlong from his
pedestal.
"He hit 'at ole lamidal statue," said George. "POW!"
"My father?"
"YESsuh! POW! he hit 'er! An' you' ma run tell me git doctuh quick
's I kin telefoam--she sho' you' pa goin' bus' a blood-vessel. He
ain't takin' on 'tall NOW. He ain't nothin' 'tall to what he was
'while ago. You done miss' it, Mist' Bibbs. Doctuh got him all
quiet' down, to what he was. POW! he hit'er! Yessuh!" He took
Bibbs's coat and proffered a crumpled telegraph form. "Here what
come," he said. "I pick 'er up when he done stompin' on 'er. You
read 'er, Mist' Bibbs--you' ma tell me tuhn 'er ovuh to you soon's
you come in."
Bibbs read the telegram quickly. It was from New York and addressed
to Mrs. Sheridan.
Sure you will all approve step have taken as was so wretched my
health would probably suffered severely Robert and I were married
this afternoon thought best have quiet wedding absolutely sure
you will understand wisdom of step when you know Robert better am
happiest woman in world are leaving for Florida will wire address
when settled will remain till spring love to all father will like
him too when knows him like I do he is just ideal.
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