No matches found 76Ʊַ_m8ƱַǶ ׬ӮǮV2.63app

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      He treated his wife like a queen, he would not allow her the smallest exertion. He waited on her hand and foot and expected his mother to do the same. Every evening, or, later in the year, in the afternoon, he would come home early from his work, and take her out for a walk on his arm. He would not allow her to go alone, for fear that she might overtire herself or that anything might frighten her. He insisted on her having the daintiest food, and never eating less than a certain quantity every day; he decided that the Odiam chairs were too hard, and bought her cushions at Rye. In fact he pampered her as much as he denied everybody else and himself.

      "Gewhillikins," murmured Jim Humphreys, "I wonder when we're going to have supper. I'm as holler as a stovepipe."

      Reuben tottered to his feet. His face was black, and he was still half stunned by the explosion.

      "Now, Russell, stand next to Humphreys; Baker, stand behind Russell; Skidmore, stand next to Russell.""Are they all gone now?"

      "I don't believe it," said the Orderly, "I've watched old Truax, when he's been roaring around, and I always found that he was after somebody that deserved it. Men of that kind are pretty certain to be very soft on good soldiers, like Si and Shorty, and I think he's all right. The boys of the 1st Oshkosh all swear by him, and you can trust a man's own regiment to know him surer than anybody else. And then there's Capts. Suter and Harris, of the Maumee Muskrats.""Ho! we shall see that."


      "Say that all again, Sergeant," asked Monty Scruggs.



      This time the boys seemed to be firing effectively. There was a commotion in the woods beyond, and the sound of groans on the damp air.Yes, she was dyingand she hoped that she would die[Pg 119] before Reuben came back. She did not want to feel again that strange, half-bitter compassion for him. The tears ran quite fast down her cheeks, and her eyes were growing dim. This was the end, and she knew it. The evening was full of tender life, but for her it was the end. Ambition and folly had stolen her out of all this freshness before the spring of her life had run. She was like a young birch tree blighted with its April leafage half uncurled.