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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"

"I ain't had a new dress fer more'n five year;" and
that was the welcome she got.
"No?" said June appeasingly. "Well, I'll get one for you myself."
"I'm much obleeged," she whined, "but I reckon I can git along."
A cough came from the bed in the other corner of the room.
"That's Dave," said the old woman, and June walked over to where
her cousin's black eyes shone hostile at her from the dark.
"I'm sorry, Dave," she said, but Dave answered nothing but a
sullen "howdye" and did not put out a hand--he only stared at her
in sulky bewilderment, and June went back to listen to the torrent
of the old woman's plaints until Bub came in. Then as she turned,
she noticed for the first time that a new door had been cut in one
side of the cabin, and Bub was following the direction of her
eyes.
"Why, haint nobody told ye?" he said delightedly.
"Told me what, Bub?"
With a whoop Bud leaped for the side of the door and, reaching up,
pulled a shining key from between the logs and thrust it into her
hands.
"Go ahead," he said. "Hit's yourn."
"Some more o' Jack Hale's fool doin's," said the old woman.


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