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Thurston, I. T. (Ida Treadwell), 1848-1918

"The Bishop's Shadow"

They were not very satisfactory after
the garments he had been wearing of late, but he said to himself,
"They'll have to do till I can get better ones an' sometime I'm agoin'
to have some shirts an' have 'em washed every week, too."
Tode's trade, that day, was not very heavy, for it was not yet known
among his regular customers that he had reopened his stand, but he
took care to advertise the fact through those whom he met and he did
not fear but that his business would soon be prospering again.
That afternoon he succeeded in securing a tiny room in the house with
Nan. It was a dismal little closet, lighted only from the hall, but it
was the best he could do, and Tode considered himself fortunate to
have his dark corner to himself, even though a broken chair and a
canvas cot without bedding of any sort were all the furniture he could
put into it then. Nan shook her head doubtfully when he showed her the
room.
"Dark and dirty," she said, with a sniff of disgust, as the boy threw
open the door. "You must get somebody to scrub it for you, Tode, and
then whitewash the walls. That will make it sweeter and lighter."
"So it will," responded the boy, promptly, "but I'll have to do the
scrubbin' an' white-washin' both, myself."
Nan looked at him doubtfully. "I wonder if you'd get it clean," she
said.


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