FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142  
143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160   161   162   163   164   165   166   167   >>   >|  
t Mr. Gammon, and held his fist poised in air. "_Squawnk!_" repeated the plaintive voice outside. Mr. Gammon had a head narrowed in the shape of an old-fashioned coffin, and the impression it produced was fully as doleful. His neighbors in that remote section of Smyrna known as "Purgatory," having the saving grace of humor, called him "Cheerful Charles." The glare in the Cap'n's eyes failed to dislodge him, and the Cap'n's mind was just then too intent on a certain topic to admit even the digression of ordering Mr. Gammon out. "What in the name of Josephus Priest do I care what the public demands?" he continued, shoving his face toward the lowering countenance of Mr. Tate. "I've built our end of the road to the town-line accordin' to the line of survey that's best for this town, and now if Vienny ain't got a mind to finish their road to strike the end of our'n, then let the both of 'em yaw apart and end in the sheep-pastur'. The public ain't runnin' this. It's _me_--the first selectman. You are takin' orders from _me_--and you want to understand it. Don't you nor any one else move a shovelful of dirt till I tell you to." Hiram Look, retired showman and steady loafer in the selectman's office, rolled his long cigar across his lips and grunted indorsement. "_Squawnk!_" The appeal outside was a bit more insistent. Mr. Gammon sighed. Hiram glanced his way and noted that he had a noose of clothes-line tied so tightly about his neck that his flabby dewlap was pinched. He carried the rest of the line in a coil on his arm. "Public says--" Mr. Tate began to growl. "Well, what does public say?" "Public that has to go around six miles by crossro'ds to git into Vienny says that you wa'n't elected to be no crowned head nor no Seizer of Rooshy!" Mr. Tate, stung by memories of the taunts flung at him as surveyor, grew angry in his turn. "I live out there, and I have to take the brunt of it. They think you and that old fool of a Vienny selectman that's lettin' a personal row ball up the bus'ness of two towns are both bedeviled." "She's prob'ly got it over them, too," enigmatically observed Mr. Gammon, in a voice as hollow as wind in a knot-hole. This time the outside "_Squawnk_" was so imperious that Mr. Gammon opened the door. In waddled the one who had been demanding admittance. "It's my tame garnder," said Mr. Gammon, apologetically. "He was lonesome to be left outside." A fuzzy little cur that had
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142  
143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160   161   162   163   164   165   166   167   >>   >|  



Top keywords:
Gammon
 

public

 

Squawnk

 

Vienny

 

selectman

 
Public
 
crowned
 

crossro

 
elected
 

Seizer


Rooshy

 

tightly

 
flabby
 

dewlap

 
clothes
 

glanced

 
sighed
 
pinched
 

carried

 

memories


imperious

 

opened

 

enigmatically

 

observed

 

hollow

 

garnder

 

lonesome

 

apologetically

 

admittance

 

waddled


demanding

 
insistent
 

surveyor

 

lettin

 

bedeviled

 
personal
 

taunts

 
understand
 

dislodge

 
intent

failed
 

called

 
Cheerful
 
Charles
 

demands

 

continued

 
shoving
 

Priest

 
Josephus
 

digression