"Call it instinct. Didn't I tell ye that in my
business I've got to jest naturally know things? I jump, Bud, where
the ordinary citizen might, so ter speak, crawl."
The boy laughed gaily. Then he ran off, returning in a minute with a
small leather case. Out of this he took a cabinet photograph, which he
handed to Jeff. That gentleman became excited at once.
"I knew it--I knew it!" he exclaimed. "She's a--_peach_! Bud, I'm
mighty glad ye showed me this. Jee--whiz! Yes, and like you, only ten
thousand times better-lookin'. What's her name, Bud?"
"You don't want to know her name."
"I want to--the worst kind. My! Look at that cunning little curl! And
her shape! You know nothing o' that yet, Bud, but I tell ye, sir, yer
sister is put up just right according to my notions. Not too tall.
Them strung-out, trained-to-a-hair, high-falutin girls never did fetch
me. I like 'em round, and soft, and innocent. What's her name, sonny?"
"Sarah."
"Sairy! Bud, I don't believe that. Sairy! I never did cotton to Sairy.
Yer pullin' my leg, ye young scallywag. The nerve! No--ye don't."
Jeff had stretched out a long, lean arm, and seized the boy by the
shoulder in a grasp which tightened cruelly.
Pages:
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383