We humans are only veneered with politeness or good
nature; underneath, man's revengeful nature lies dormant--but not
dead.
Mrs. Hawkins was delighted to see him. "Olive, don't you think he's
the likeness of his father?"
Olive agreed, because she had found that agreement with her
employer's opinions made life pleasant, and also led to many
desirable additions to her wardrobe.
Mrs. Hawkins surveyed him again. "I'll never forget what a poor
appetite his father had when he boarded here. He never came to his
meals reg'lar. But he was in love, head over heels an' an extry dip,--
an' I don't blame him, for 'Zeke Pettingill's sister was good enough
for any man, even if he did git to be guv'nor. Have a cookey?" and
Quincy's pockets were filled with cakes that contained raisins and
citron.
"Them's seedless raisins, Quincy. I had a boarder once, a reg'lar
hayseed who came down here from Montrose to work hayin' time, an' he
asked me how I got the stuns out of the raisins. Jes' to fool him, I
said I bit 'em out, an' do you know, that old fool never teched
another bit o' cake while he stopped here."
Mr. Jonas Hawkins took him out to see the hens and chickens, and told
him that he "kalkilated that mos' on 'em eggs that was bein' sot on
would hatch out." Quincy's great delight was going with Hiram in the
grocery wagon. One day they went over the same road from the
Pettingill farm to Eastborough Centre that his father had travelled
so many times.
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