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Day, Holman (Holman Francis), 1865-1935

"The Ramrodders A Novel"

It was selfish of me to say I didn't
want you to get out of the woods and be a big man."
"I couldn't be one," he protested.
"Even a foolish little girl up here in the woods has got faith that you
can--and men who are really big don't forget their old friends. I don't
want you mixed up in any wicked thing, Harlan, but I wouldn't want you
to go away from me thinking I was selfish and jealous. That isn't the
right kind of a friend for any one to have. I've been thinking it over."
He stared at her through the dusk. This sudden flash of worldly wisdom,
this unselfish loyalty in one so young, rather startled him.
"That's real grown-up talk, child," he blurted.
"Is it?" The wan little flicker of a smile that she mustered brought
tears to his eyes. "Maybe it's because I'll be sixteen to-morrow.
Good-night, Big Boy!" This new, womanly seriousness was full of infinite
pathos. She had not released his hand. She bent forward suddenly,
leaning from her saddle, and kissed his cheek. "And good-bye, my
playmate!" she whispered.


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