"A fellow
could fall in love with you, and marry you with some satisfaction.
Crimminy, but I'm hungry!"
Jimmy ate greedily, and Dannie stepped about setting the cabin to
rights. It lacked many feminine touches that distinguished Jimmy's
as the abode of a woman; but it was neat and clean, and there
seemed to be a place where everything belonged.
"Now, I'm off," said Jimmy, rising. "I'll take your gun, because I
ain't goin' to see Mary till I get back."
"Oh, Jimmy, dinna do that!" pleaded Dannie. I want my gun. Go and
get your own, and tell her where ye are going and what ye are going
to do. She'd feel less lonely."
"I know how she would feel better than you do," retorted Jimmy. "I
am not going. If you won't give me your gun, I'll borrow one; or
have all my fun spoiled."
Dannie took down the shining gun and passed it over. Jimmy
instantly relented. He smiled an old boyish smile, that always
caught Dannie in his softest spot.
"You are the bist frind I have on earth, Dannie," he said
winsomely. "You are a man worth tying to. By gum, there's ~nothing
I wouldn't do for you! Now go on, like the good fellow you are, and
fix it up with Mary."
So Dannie started for the wood pile. In summer he could stand
outside and speak through the screen. In winter he had to enter the
cabin for errands like this, and as Jimmy's wood box was as heavily
weighted on his mind as his own, there was nothing unnatural in his
stamping snow on Jimmy's back stoop, and calling.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89