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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Cressy"

"
"That was mighty rough papers," said Cressy, who was purposely
dialectical to strangers, "considering that you trapsed up and down the
lane, past the house, twice yesterday."
"Then you saw me?" said the young man, with a slightly discomfited
laugh.
"I did. And so did the hound, and so, I reckon, did Joe Masters and the
hired man. And when you pranced back on the home stretch, there was
the hound, Masters, the hired man, and Maw all on your trail, and Paw
bringin' up the rear with a shot-gun. There was about a half a mile of
you altogether." She removed her hand from her eyes to indicate with a
lazily graceful sweep this somewhat imaginative procession, and laughed.
"You are certainly well guarded," said Stacey hesitatingly; "and looking
at you, Miss Cressy," he added boldly, "I don't wonder at it."
"Well, it IS reckoned that next to Paw's boundaries I'm pretty well
protected from squatters and jumpers."
Forceful and quaint as her language was, the lazy sweetness of her
intonation, and the delicate refinement of her face, more than atoned
for it.


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