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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Rose in the Ring"

You're a brick. I'll not forget what you did for Ernie."
The two shook hands. The satirical grin had left the stranger's face.
He was regarding David with keen gray eyes, narrowed by the odd
intentness of his gaze. David had the feeling that his innermost soul
was being searched by the shrewdest eyes he had ever looked into.
"I came up just in time," explained the Virginian, still somewhat out
of breath. "They were teasing him, and then one of the brutes struck
him. I like fair play. I couldn't help taking a hand. They might have
hurt him severely."
"He's my brother," said the other, putting his hand on Ernie's
misshapen shoulder. "No, I won't forget this," he went on. "You didn't
have to interfere, but you did. Plucky thing to do. They say you come
from Virginia. Well, you've proved it. Thank you for doing this. My
name's Dick Cronk. I'm from New York. Ernest, I haven't heard you say
anything that sounds like 'much obliged.' Speak up!"
The hunchback looked sullenly at the ground, his black eyebrows almost
meeting in a straight line above his nose.
"He couldn't have licked 'em if you hadn't come, Dick," he protested.


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