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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"

She wandered the length of the
cathedral aisle with him, and it was at her suggestion that he lighted
his altar with a row of flaming foxfire.
As Freckles came to the cabin from his long day at the swamp he saw
Mrs. Chicken sweeping to the south and wondered where she was going. He
stepped into the bright, cosy little kitchen, and as he reached down the
wash-basin he asked Mrs. Duncan a question.
"Mother Duncan, do kisses wash off?"
So warm a wave swept her heart that a half-flush mantled her face. She
straightened her shoulders and glanced at her hands tenderly.
"Lord, na! Freckles," she cried. "At least, the anes ye get from people
ye love dinna. They dinna stay on the outside. They strike in until they
find the center of your heart and make their stopping-place there, and
naething can take them from ye--I doubt if even death----Na, lad, ye can
be reet sure kisses dinna wash off!"
Freckles set the basin down and muttered as he plunged his hot, tired
face into the water, "I needn't be afraid to be washing, then, for that
one struck in.


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