Vick, taking up the thread where it had been severed by recrimination.
"All through the war,--long before we went in,--she was up in town
working for the Belgiums, and then, when we did go in, she went
East some'eres to learn how to be a nurse or drive an ambulance or
something,--New York, I believe. And as for money, she contributed
quite a bit--how much do they say it was, Amos?"
"Well, all I know is that Mary Simmons says she gave ten thousand
dollars and Josie Fiddler says it was three hundred,--so you can
choose between 'em."
"She did her share, all right," said young Caleb defensively.
"That's more'n a lot of people around here did."
"Gale's in love with her, Mr. Thane," explained Rosabel. "She's
five years older than he is, and don't know he's on earth."
"Aw, cut that out," growled Caleb.
"Is she good-looking?" inquired Courtney Thane.
"I don't like 'em quite as tall as she is," said Mr. White.
"She's got a good pair of legs," said old Caleb Brown, shifting
his cigar with his tongue.
"We're not talking about horses, father," said Mrs. Vick sharply.
"Who said we was?" demanded old Caleb.
"Most people think she's good-looking," said Rosabel, somewhat
grudgingly. "And she isn't any taller than I am, Mr. White."
"Well, you ain't no dwarft, Rosie," exclaimed Farmer White, with a
brave laugh. "You must be five foot seven or eight, but you ain't
skinny like she is.
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