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Day, Holman (Holman Francis), 1865-1935

"All-Wool Morrison"


"Nobody is on his job in this State House tonight!" His Excellency's fears
had wire-edged his temper. "By gad! you go down there and tend to yours,
as I have told you to do, Amos, or I'll take that sword and race you along
the corridor on the point of it!"
"We must be informed on what this means," insisted the Senator.
There was a rap on the private door. Again the men in the Executive
Chamber swapped uneasy glances. Corson's demeanor invited the Governor to
assume the responsibility. His Excellency was manifestly shirking. He
looked over his shoulder in the direction of the fireplace, as if he felt
an impulse to arm himself with the ornamental poker and tongs.
"May I come in?" The voice was that of the mayor of Marion. The voice was
deprecatory.
"Come in!" invited North.
Morrison entered. He greeted them with a wide smile that did not fit the
seriousness of the situation, as they viewed it. There was humor behind
the smile; it suggested suppressed hilarity; it hinted that he had
something funny to tell them.
But their grim countenances did not encourage him.
"If I am intruding on important business----"
"Shut the door behind you! What is it? What happened?" demanded North.


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