I would be glad to lap out of one of
your crocks with Sniffie and the wee dogs.
"And most of all I'm tired to see you. I want to tell you how hard I
am working, and that I don't seem to be able to make some of these
stupid old gold backs see things my way, even if I do show it to them
covered with a haze of yellow pay dust. But they shall--and that's my
vow to--
"I wish I could kneel down by your rocking-chair with Stonie and hear
Uncle Tucker chant that stunt about '_the hollow of His hand_.' Is any
of that true, Rose Mamie, and are you true and is Aunt Viney as well
as could be expected, considering the length of my absence? I've got
the little Bible book with Miss Amanda's blush rose pressed in it, and
I put my hand to my breast-pocket so often to be sure it is there and
some other things--letter things--that the heat and friction of them
and the hand combined have brought out a great patch of prickly heat
right over my heart in this sizzling weather. I know it needs fresh
cold cream to make it heal up, and I haven't even any talcum powder.
How's Louisa Helen and doth the widow consent still not at all? Tell
Crabtree I say just walk over and try force of arms and not to--That
force of arms is a good expression to use--literally in some cases.
Something is the matter with my arms. They don't feel strong like they
did when I helped Uncle Tucker mow the south pasture and turn the corn
chopper--they're weak and--and sorter useless--and empty.
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