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Beach, Rex Ellingwood, 1877-1949

"The Ne'er-Do-Well"

Then, for once and for all time, he realized
that in the whole wide world there was but one man who really
mattered, one man for whom he honestly cared. A sudden sense of
security swept over him, banishing all his fears. The room with
its smiling faces became blurred and distant; a thousand words of
endearment sprang to his lips. What he really said was:
"Hello!" And even that he pronounced as shyly as a girl.
"My kid!" the old man said, shakingly. "H-how have they treated
you, Buster?" It was a nickname he had given his son when he was a
sturdy, round-faced urchin of eight, and which he had laid away
regretfully in lavender, so to speak, when the boy grew to
manhood.
"You came, didn't you?" Kirk said, in a voice not at all like his
own. "I knew you'd come."
"Of course I came, the instant Clifford cabled me that these
idiots had arrested you. By God! They'll sweat for this. How are
you anyhow, Kirk? Dammit, you need a shave! Wouldn't they give you
a razor? Hey! Clifford, Colonel Jolson, come here! These
scoundrels wouldn't give him a shave." Darwin K. Anthony's eyes
began to blaze at this indignity, and he rumbled on savagely: "Oh,
I'll smash this dinky government--try to convict my kid, eh? I
suppose you're hungry, too; well, so'm I.


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