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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"

Six months afterwards I chanced to find my way
here, as I told you, and gave it your name. I did not dream that I
should ever stand beside it with you, and have you christen it
yourself."
He unloosed the cup from his flask, and filling it at the spring handed
it to her. But the young girl leant over the pool, and pouring the
water idly back said, "I'd rather put my feet in it. Mayn't I?"
"I don't understand you," he said wonderingly.
"My feet are _so_ hot and dusty. The water looks deliciously cool. May
I?"
"Certainly."
He turned away as Nellie, with apparent unconsciousness, seated herself
on the bank, and removed her shoes and stockings. When she had dabbled
her feet a few moments in the pool, she said over her shoulder--
"We can talk just as well, can't we?"
"Certainly."
"Well, then, why didn't you come to church more often, and why didn't
you think of telling father that you were convicted of sin and wanted
to be baptized?"
"I don't know," hesitated the young man.
"Well, you lost the chance of having father convert you, baptize you,
and take you into full church fellowship.


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