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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"

If she doesn't care, I don't. Me dear new
father doesn't, nor me aunt and uncle, and you never did. Why should I
be fretting all me life about what can't be helped. The real truth is,
that since what happened to it last week, I'm so everlastingly proud of
it I catch meself sticking it out on display a bit."
Freckles looked the Boss in the eyes and began to laugh.
"Well thank heaven!" said McLean.
"Now it's me turn," said Freckles. "I don't know as I ought to be asking
you, and yet I can't see a reason good enough to keep me from it. It's
a thing I've had on me mind every hour since I've had time to straighten
things out a little. May I be asking you a question?"
McLean reached over and took Freckles' hand. His voice was shaken with
feeling as he replied: "Freckles, you almost hurt me. Will you never
learn how much you are to me--how happy you make me in coming to me with
anything, no matter what?"
"Then it's this," said Freckles, gripping the hand of McLean strongly.
"If this accident, and all that's come to me since, had never happened,
where was it you had planned to send me to school? What was it you meant
for me to do?"
"Why, Freckles," answered McLean, "I'm scarcely prepared to state
definitely.


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