What's the news at Craig's Corner? Set
down, you look about tuckered out."
"Should say I was," Miles drawled forth. "Never got into such a mess in
all my life. Skated down river Sunday evening and was caught in that
blasted snowstorm, and so am footing it back."
"Dear me, that's hard luck," and Farrington sat down upon a soap-box.
"Anyway, I'm mighty glad to see ye. Hope things are goin' well at the
Corner. Much election talk, eh?"
"Considerable. The air's been full of it lately, but I guess Sunday's
doings will give the folks a new subject for awhile. 'Twas certainly a
stunner!"
"Why, what do ye mean, Miles? Nobody killed, I hope."
"What! Haven't you heard anything?"
"No, how could I with the storm blockin' the roads."
"Sure. I never thought of that. But I supposed the parson let it out."
"The parson!" and Farrington's eyes opened wide with amazement. "What in
the devil has he to do with it? He was brought home night afore last with
his shoulder out of jint"
"Whew! You don't say so! Well, I declare!"
"Tell me what ye mean, man," exclaimed Farrington, moving impatiently on
his seat.
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