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Howells, William Dean, 1837-1920

"The Rise of Silas Lapham"

Jerry, suppose you let me have hold of the
leathers a minute."
This was his way of taking the reins from the driver;
and in half the time he specified, he had skilfully
turned the vehicle on the pier, among the crooked lines
and groups of foot-passengers, and was spinning up the road
toward the stretch of verandaed hotels and restaurants
in the sand along the shore. "Pretty gay down here,"
he said, indicating all this with a turn of his whip, as he
left it behind him. "But I've got about sick of hotels;
and this summer I made up my mind that I'd take a cottage.
Well, Pen, how are the folks?" He looked half-way round
for her answer, and with the eye thus brought to bear upon
her he was able to give her a wink of supreme content.
The Colonel, with no sort of ulterior design, and nothing
but his triumph over Mrs. Lapham definitely in his mind,
was feeling, as he would have said, about right.

The girl smiled a daughter's amusement at her
father's boyishness. "I don't think there's much change
since morning. Did Irene have a headache when you left?"
"No," said the Colonel.
"Well, then, there's that to report."
"Pshaw!" said the Colonel with vexation in his tone.
"I'm sorry Miss Irene isn't well," said Corey politely.
"I think she must have got it from walking too long
on the beach.


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