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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Her Father's Daughter"

"
"Yes, so would I," said Katy. "I'm not worryin' meself about the
little baste any more than I would if it had been a mad dog
foaming up that cliff at ye."
"Then what is it?" asked Linda. "Tell me this minute."
"I dunno what in the world you're going to think," said Katy "I
dunno what in the world you're going to do."
Her face was so distressed that Linda's nimble brain flew to a
conclusion. She tightened her arm across Katy's shoulder.
"By Jove, Katy!" she said breathlessly. "Is Eileen in the
house?"
Katy nodded.
"Has she been to see John and made things right with him?"
Katy nodded again.
"He's in there with her waitin' for ye," she said.
It was a stunned Linda who slowly dropped her arm, stood erect,
and lifted her head very high. She thought intently.
"You don't mean to tell me," she said, "that you have been CRYING
over her?"
Katy held out both hands.
"Linda," she said, "she always was such a pretty thing, and her
ma didn't raise her to have the sense of a peewee. If your pa
had been let take her outdoors and grow her in the sun and the
air, she would have been bigger and broader, an' there would have
been the truth of God's sunshine an' the glory of His rain about
her. Ye know, Linda, that she didn't ever have a common decent
chance. It was curls that couldn't be shook out and a nose that
dassen't be sunburned and shoes that mustn't be scuffed and a
dress that shouldn't be mussed, from the day she was born.


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