'Rast had acquired the
synonym at the business men's carnival in Boggs City the preceding fall.
Sometimes he substituted the words "pie-eyed," "skeed," "lit up," etc.,
just to show his worldliness.
After the young men had departed and the Crow girls had gone upstairs
with their mother Rosalie slipped out on the porch and sat herself down
upon the knee of her disconsolate guardian.
"You are worried about something, Daddy Crow," she said gently. "Now,
speak up, sir. What is it?"
"It's time you were in bed," scolded Anderson, pulling his whiskers
nervously.
"Oh, I'm young, daddy. I don't need sleep. But you never have been up as
late as this since I've known you."
"I was up later'n this the time you had the whoopin'-cough, all right."
"What's troubling you, daddy?"
"Oh, nothin'--nothin' at all. Doggone, cain't a man set out on his own
porch 'thout--"
"Forgive me, daddy. Shall I go away and leave you?"
"Gosh a'mighty, no!" he gasped. "That's what's worryin' me--oh, you
didn't mean forever. You jest meant to-night? Geminy crickets, you did
give me a skeer!" He sank back with a great sigh of relief.
"Why, I never expect to leave you forever," she cried, caressing his
scanty hair. "You couldn't drive me away. This is home, and you've been
too good to me all these years. I may want to travel after a while, but
I'll always come back to you, Daddy Crow.
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