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Allen, James Lane, 1849-1925

"The Mettle of the Pasture"


Are you coming to my ball?"
"I hope to come."
"And is Miss Anna coming?"
"Miss Anna is coming. She is coming as a man; and she is going to
bring a lady."
"How is she going to dress as a man?" said Marguerite, as she
danced away from him under her parasol.
She strolled slowly on until she reached the street of justice and
the jail; turning into this, she passed up the side opposite the
law offices. Her parasol rested far back on one shoulder; to any
lateral observer there could have been no mistake regarding the
face in front of it. She passed through a group of firemen sitting
in their shirtsleeves in front of the engine-house, disappeared
around the corner, and went to a confectioner's. Presently she
reentered the street, and this time walked along the side where the
law offices were grouped. She disappeared around the corner and
entered a dry-goods store. A few moments later she reentered the
street for the third and last time. Just as she passed a certain
law office, she dropped her packages. No one came out to pick them
up. Marguerite did this herself--very slowly. Still no one
appeared. She gave three sharp little raps on the woodwork of the
door.
From the rear office a red head was thrust suddenly out like a
surprised woodpecker's. Barbee hurried to the entrance and looked
up the street. He saw a good many people. He looked down the
street and noticed a parasol moving away.
"I supposed you were in the courthouse," she said, glancing at him
with surprise.


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