Then the breeze served, and he heard Rebecca's clear voice
saying:--
"For it's your star, my star, all the stars together,
That make our country's flag so proud
To float in the bright fall weather!"
"Talk about stars! She's got a couple of 'em right in her head,"
thought Simpson. "If I ever seen a young one like that layin' on
anybody's doorstep I'd hook her quicker'n a wink, though I've got
plenty to home, the Lord knows! And I wouldn't swap her off
neither.--Spunky little creeter, too; settin'up in the wagon
lookin' 'bout's big as a pint o' cider, but keepin' right after
the flag!--I vow I'm 'bout sick o' my job! Never with the crowd,
allers jest on the outside, 's if I wa'n't as good's they be! If
it paid well, mebbe would n't mind, but they're so thunderin'
stingy round here, they don't leave out anything decent for you
to take from 'em, yet you're reskin' your liberty 'n' reputation
jest the same!--Countin' the poor pickin's 'n' the time I lose in
jail I might most's well be done with it 'n' work out by the day,
as the folks want me to; I'd make 'bout's much, n' I don' know's
it would be any harder!"
He could see Rebecca stepping down from the platform, while his
own red-headed little girl stood up on her bench, waving her hat
with one hand, her handkerchief with the other, and stamping with
both feet.
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