She drew up the
window-shade and looked down the street till she saw Mrs. Bradley and
Westerfelt pass in a buggy. Then she went into the dining-room, where
a servant was laying a cloth on a long table, took down a stack of
plates from a shelf, and began to put them in their places.
When breakfast was over that morning Westerfelt went back to the
stable. While sitting in the office. Long Jim Hunter came to the door
leading a fine bay horse, a horse that Westerfelt recognized at a
glance as one he had seen and admired before.
"Oh, Mr. Westerfelt," he called out over Washburn's shoulder, who had
gone to him. "I wish you'd step heer a minute. I know you don't do
the rough work round heer, but I like to have my dealings with the head
of a shebang. Wash, heer, never did have much more sense 'n a chinch,
nohow."
"What can I do for you, Mr. Hunter?" asked the man addressed, coming
out.
There was a decidedly sheepish look in the old man's face, and he swung
the halter of the horse awkwardly to and fro.
"Well, you see, it's jest this way, Westerfelt," he began, with an
effort.
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