Bladen parted
from Crenshaw with expressions of pleasure at having had the
opportunity of making his acquaintance, and further delivered
himself of the civil wish that they might soon meet again. Then
Crenshaw, assisted by Bob Yancy, proceeded to secure the great
house against intrusion.
"I make it a p'int to always stay and see the plumb finish of a
thing," explained Yancy. "Otherwise you're frequently put out by
hearing of what happened after you left; I can stand anything but
disapp'intment of that kind."
They passed from room to room securing doors and windows, and at
last stepped out upon the back porch.
"Hullo!" said Yancy, pointing.
There on a bench by the kitchen door was a small figure. It was
Hannibal Wayne Hazard asleep, with his old spo'tin' rifle across
his knees. His very existence had been forgotten.
"Well, I declare to goodness!" said Crenshaw.
"What are you going to do with him, Mr. John?"
This question nettled Crenshaw.
"I don't know as that is any particular affair of mine," he said.
Now, Mr. Crenshaw, though an excellent man of business, with an
unblinking eye on number one, was kindly, on the whole, but there
was a Mrs. Crenshaw, to whom he rendered a strict account of all
his deeds, and that sacred institution, the home, was only a
tolerable haven when these deeds were nicely calculated to fit
with the lady's exactions. Especially was he aware that Mrs.
Crenshaw was averse to children as being inimical to cleanliness
and order, oppressive virtues that drove Crenshaw himself in his
hours of leisure to the woodshed, where he might spit freely.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25