Then it was that I was a hero--when I came again to Black Log--what was
left of me.
My people were very kind. They sent Henry Holmes's double phaeton to
the county town to meet my train, and as I stumbled from the car, being
new to my crutches, I fell into the arms of a reception committee. Tim
was there. And my little brother fought the others off and picked me
up and carried me, as I had carried him in the old days when he was a
toddling youngster and I a sturdy boy. But he was six feet two now and
I had wasted to a shadow. Perry Thomas had a speech prepared. He is
our orator, our prize debater, our township statesman, and his
frock-coat tightly buttoned across his chest, his unusually high and
stiffly starched collar, his repeated coughing as he hovered on the
outskirts of the crowd, told me plainly that he had an address to make.
Henry Holmes, indeed, asked me to stand still just one minute, and I
divined instantly that he was working in the interest of oratory; but
Tim spoiled it all by running off with me and tossing me into the
phaeton.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25