Bobo, stamping upon the
ground and gnashing his teeth, "but I'll give ye a pointer, Nal
Roberts; you go right home an' stay there! I need Mandy the worst
kind, an' ye know it. I couldn't spare the girl nohow. An' there's
another thing; I won't have no sparkin' aroun' this place. No huggin'
an' kissin'. There's none for me an' there'll be none for you. Love,
pah! I reckon that's all ye've got. Love! Ye make me sick to my
stomach, Nal Roberts. Ye've bin readin' dime novels, that's what ails
ye. Love! There ain't no dividen's in love."
"Naterally," observed Mr. Roberts, "ye know nothin' of love, Mister
Bobo, an' ye never will. I'm sorry for ye, too. Life without love is
like eatin' bull-beef jerky without _salsa_!"
"I've raised Mandy," continued Mr. Bobo, ignoring this interruption,
"very keerful. I give her good schoolin', victuals, an' a heap o'
clothes. I've knocked some horse sense into the child. There ain't no
nonsense in Mandy, an' ye won't find her equal in the land for
peddlin' fruit an' sech. I've kep' her rustlin' from morn till night.
When a woman idles, the ole Nick gits away with her mighty quick.
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