Plain Mary Smith

her, and told him fervently she didn't want

l sore, you know. Anyway, it wound up unpleasant. Father wouldn't listen to my side, as usual, and I'll leave it to any man that's tried to do the right thing and had it explode with him to reali

k, bunged up his nose, and sent him hollering home. He met our schoolteacher on the way. Mr. Judson and I come together fairly regular, yet we liked each other. He was a square man, Samuel Judson, and he knew kids from thirty years' experience. He never made but one mistake with me, and he come out and begged my pardon before the whole school for that. Father sneered at his doing

man-a fine man, William," he'd say. And perhaps you think that small thin gentleman

ed him what ailed him. Algy explained the foul way I t

my, "and what

g at all-no

ebrows. "I've often longed to thrash you fo

in the country-to assault and batter a poor, nice, gentlemanly little boy-a great big hulking scoundrel like myself-why, it passed all crimes

But Fate sprung a stuffed deck on me. I did a piece of reforming really worth doing, but it cost me my home. Moreove

ixty years to her credit, and two hundred pounds to show for 'em. She ran a dairy up on the hill, doing her own milking and delivering, with only one long-suffering man to help out. I always reme

gh so she couldn't take care of her own business and any other body's that come her way. When she went by father's house she used to roar, "Hark, froom the toomb-a doooleful sound!" because she hated everything con

ther's milk curddled in his stummick." She humped up her back and shook both fists. "He orter married me!" says she; "I'd 'a' fixed him! He'd orter married ME!" She b'iled over entirely and galloped for the gate. "I'd wring his cussed neck, if I stayed a minute lo

damned pleased to do. In that way, she's restful to remember. Most of us have got to c

points on my new system, when who should we see bearin' down the street, all sails s

around with the boys, now t

ol-hardy. She stuttered out some kind o

huck them clothes. What you wastin' your time on boys fur? You was always hombly, Hitty; yes, but you're clean-I'll say th

ied and shuck

her to Willet's Mount

er, but Mary Ann jabbed deep. She was child entirely when we

ferent clothes,

for all the jealous, pop-eyed

," she said. Then I got in the argument that went every time, on every question,

issed me then and there. "I won't!" she says, stamping her foot, "I won't! I

was Miss Hitt

and whispered he believed in helping young fellers, so, when I was getting my outfit-he winked-why, he'd make a big reduction in tinware. I stood most of the gaffing pret

r ain't like a country loafer. The city loafer is a blackguard that ain't g

busting through the pants' legs, big feet busting through the ends of his curved-up shoes, and a week's growth of pig-bristles busting out of his red face. Mick

n Mick Murphy as a thing of beauty. Little bits of eyes, near hid with whisky bloat; big puffy lips, stained with tobacco juice till they looked like the blood was coming through; dirty-handed, dirty-clothed, and dirty-mouthed-yah! And still-well, when I remember how that bulldozer went up a burning flight of stairs, tore a burning door off with them big dirty hands, and brought a little girl down through a wallow of flames, taking the coat

my face. I sassed him more, and he did slap my face. In one twenty-fifth of a second I caught him on his rum-bouquet and sent him plumb off his feet-not bad for a sixteen-year-old, when you consider the other party was an accomplished rough-houser. Yes, sir, he went right down, clean, more from the quickness than the stuff behind

about Miss Hitty-I sure wasn't going to stand hearing her name mishandled by tavern loafers. Yet the principal cause for my staying was my anxiety to leave. That big, bellowing Irishman, dragging a half-dozen men to get at me, blood streaming down his face, and his expression far from agreeable, put a crimp in my soul,

eally as good an education for fighting as sparring is, and perhaps a little better. It ain't so much a ques

olding him for, 's if he was a ragi

l," says my first frien

you will see he don't put me down and gou

with that gang,-I feared

l this advice I didn't want had made me more determined. I got crying mad. "Gol-ding it all to thunder!" says I, hopping up and d

d a consumptive cough, and an easy, smoothing way with his hands, always sort of apologizing. Several men had been led

pistol from under the seat. The pistol was loaded with buckshot, and four fingers of powder to push it, as every one around knew. He walked up to Mick and put the touch of a cold, gray, Yankee eye on hi

ht that b

go of him,

g, kerswot. Scurry-scurry, biff-biff-biff. Somebody hit somewhere. Somebody with a pain in the neck. No time to find out who it is. Zip, smash, rip; more pains; streaks

top. Lovely Peter! How she rolls! Who's sick?-Mick, probably. Lightning struck, that time.... Again ... Mmmmmmearrrrr ... dark ... dark. Raining ice-water! He's all right! Give him a little air! Somebody crying, "I did the best I could by him, Eli; g-gu-gug-gol-dar

ck me, Eli

ou, nor him, nor me, will ever know," s

partner in the dance, holding out my ha

He grabbed my hand and shook it. "Yer all right," says he. "Sorry I am I sa

ugh-and-tumble fighter even, was impossible. He was ashamed of the whole thing. As soon as his ugly

to save my fee

wouldn't admit being decent for a farm. He swung away. The