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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

"Peter: a novel of which he is not the hero"

Hicks five minutes after
she had laid her eyes on him, that Mr. Breen's uncle was "just too
dear for anything,"--to which the lady with the movable hair and
mob-cap not only agreed, but added the remark of her own, "that
folks like him was a sight better than the kind she was a-gettin'."
All these happenings of the night and early hours of this bright,
beautiful morning--and it was bright and sunny overhead despite
the old fellow's precautionary umbrella--had helped turn out the
spick and span gentleman who was now making his way carefully over
the unpaved road which stood for Corklesville's principal street.
Miss Felicia saw him first.
"Oh! there you are!" she cried before he could raise his eyes.
"Did you ever see anything so disgraceful as this crossing--not a
plank--nothing. No--get out of my way, Peter; you will just upset
me, and I would rather help myself."
In reply Peter, promptly ignoring her protest, stepped in front of
her, poked into several fraudulent solidities covering
unfathomable depths, found one hard enough to bear the weight of
Miss Felicia's dainty shoe--it was about as long as a baby's
hand--and holding out his own said, in his most courtly manner:
"Be very careful now, my dear: put your foot on mine; so! now give
me your hand and jump.


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