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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Her Father's Daughter"

Where did you get them?"
"Got them in Multiflores Canyon from my father to start with,"
said Linda, "but recently I have been thinking, because there is
a boy in high school who is making a great fight for a better
scholarship record than a Jap in his class. I brood over it
every spare minute, day or night, and when I say my prayers I
implore high Heaven to send him an idea or to send me one that I
can pass on to him, that will help him to beat that Jap."
"I see," said Peter Morrison. "We'll have to take time to talk
this over. It's barely possible I might be able to suggest
something."
"You let that kid fight his own battles," said Henry Anderson
roughly. "He's no proper bug-catcher. I feel it in my bones."
For the first time, Linda's joy laugh rang over Peter Morrison's
possession.
"I don't know about that," she said gaily. "He's a wide-awake
specimen; he has led his class for four years when the Jap didn't
get ahead of him. But, all foolishness aside, take my word for
it, Peter, you'll be sorry if you don't build this house big
enough for your dream lady and for all the little dreams that may
spring from her heart."
"Nightmares, you mean," said Henry Anderson. "I can't imagine a
bunch of kids muddying up this spring and breaking the bushes and
using slingshots on the birds."
"Yes," said Linda with scathing sarcasm, "and wouldn't our
government be tickled to death to have a clear spring and a
perfect bush and a singing bird, if it needed six men to go over
the top to handle a regiment of Japanese!"
Then Peter Morrison laughed.


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