Floyd, me 'n' mother did. Did I ever tell you the time me'n'
her--" But Harriet, with a preoccupied air, had turned away.
Chapter XVIII
Westerfelt went back to the stable and ordered Jake to get out his
horse and buggy. Washburn watched him over the back of the mule he was
hitching to a spring wagon and smiled. "Got it in the neck that pop!"
he murmured. "I knowed Bates wusn't a-buyin' a new whip an' lap-robe
fer nothin'. I'll bet my life Mr. Westerfelt 'll lose that gal, an',
by George, he ort to! He don't seem to know his own mind."
Just then Bascom Bates whirled by on his way to the hotel. There was
something glaringly incongruous between his glistening silk hat and the
long-haired "plough horse" and rickety buggy he was driving. The silk
hat was a sort of badge of office; lawyers wore them, as a rule, and he
was the only lawyer at Cartwright. He had bought his silk hat on the
day of his admission to the bar, and had worn it regularly on dry
Sundays ever since. It would have suited anybody else better than it
did him. He was not at all good-looking.
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