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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

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

But it was not until she uttered a cry of agony and ran
straight toward him, that he sprang forward to meet her and caught
her in his aims to keep her from falling.
"Oh, Jack!--where is daddy--where--" she gasped.
"Why, he is all right, Miss Ruth,--everybody's all right! Why did
you come here? Oh! I am so sorry you have had this fright! Don't
answer,--just lean on me until you get your breath."
"Yes--but are you sure he is safe? The grocer's boy said nobody
had seen him alive."
"Of course I am sure! Just look across--there he is; nobody could
ever mistake that old slouch hat of his. And look at the big
'fill.' It hasn't given an inch, Miss Ruth--think of it! What a
shame you have had such a fright," he continued as he led her to a
pile of lumber beside the track and moved out a dry plank where he
seated her as tenderly as if she had been a frightened child,
standing over her until she breathed easier.
"But then, if he is safe, why did you leave daddy? You are not
hurt yourself, are you?" she exclaimed suddenly, reaching up her
hand and catching the sleeve of his tarpaulin, a great lump in her
throat.


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