If I melt, you won't go after
her. She's probably blistered and half eaten up; but she never will quit
until she is satisfied."
"Then it will be safer to be taking care of you," suggested Freckles.
"Now you're talking sense!" said the Angel.
"May I try to help your arm?" he asked.
"Have you any idea how it hurts?" she parried.
"A little," said Freckles.
"Well, Mr. McLean said We'd probably find his son here"
"His son!" cried Freckles.
"That's what he said. And that you would do anything you could for us;
and that we could trust you with our lives. But I would have trusted
you anyway, if I hadn't known a thing about you. Say, your father is
rampaging proud of you, isn't he?"
"I don't know," answered the dazed Freckles.
"Well, call on me if you want reliable information. He's so proud of you
he is all swelled up like the toad in AEsop's Fables. If you have ever
had an arm hurt like this, and can do anything, why, for pity sake, do
it!"
She turned back her sleeve, holding toward Freckles an arm of palest
cameo, shaped so exquisitely that no sculptor could have chiseled it.
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