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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Michael O'Halloran"

It's getting too hot for you. Don't you
remember what I told you last night?"
"'Bout laying on the grass an' the clover flowers?"
"Exactly yes!" said Mickey. "'Fore we melt let's roll up in this sheet and
go, Lily! What do you say?"
"Has--has the red-berry folks come?" she cried.
"They're downstairs, Lily. They're waiting."
Peaches began climbing into his arms.
"Mickey, Mickey-lovest, hold me tight," she panted. "Mickey, I'm scairt
just God-damned!"
"Wope! Wope lady! None of that!" cried Mickey aghast. "The place where
you're going there's a _nice little girl_ that never said such a word in
all her life, and if she did her mammy would wash the badness out of her
mouth with soap, just like I'll have to wash out yours, if you don't
watch. You can't go in the big car, being held tight by me, else you
promise cross your heart never, not never to say that again."
"Mickey, will soapin' take it out?" wailed Peaches.
"Well my mammy took it out of _me_ that way!"
"Mickey get the soap, an' wash, an' scour it all out now, so's I can't
ever.


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