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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Eben Holden, a tale of the north country"


It thrilled me to see the splendour of her beauty that day; her eyes
wet with feeling as they looked up at me; to feel again the
trembling touch of her lips. In a moment I turned to Uncle Eb.
'Boy,' he said, 'I thought you...' and then he stopped and began
brushing his coat sleeve.
'Come on now,' he added as he took my grip away from me. 'We're
goin' t' hev a gran' good time. I'll take ye all to a splendid
tavern somewheres. An' I ain't goin' if count the cost nuther.
He was determined to carry my grip for me. Hope had a friend
with her who was going north in the morning on our boat. We
crossed the ferry and took a Broadway omnibus, while query
followed query.
'Makes me feel like a flapjack t'ride 'n them things,' said Uncle Eb
as we got out.
He hired a parlour and two bedrooms for us all at the St Nicholas.
'Purty middlin' steep!' he said to me as we left the office. 'It is,
sartin! but I don't care - not a bit. When folks has if hev a good
time they've got t' hev it.
We were soon seated in our little parlour.


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