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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Michael O'Halloran"

Harding. "And come to think of it, I've
mentioned _that_ to Peter, over and over, too. But Mickey, what I started
to say was, that I've been perfectly possessed to follow that path and
watch the sun rise while sitting under that apple tree; and never yet have
I got to the place where there wasn't bread, or churning, or a baby, or
visitors, or a wash, or ironing, or some reason why I couldn't go. Maybe
I'm a fool, but sure as you're a foot high, I've got to take that trip
pretty soon now, or my family is going to see trouble. And last night
thinking it over for the thousandth time I said to myself: since he's so
handy, if he'd keep things going just one morning, just one morning----"
Mickey handed her a sun hat.
"G'wan!" he said gruffly. "I'll do your work, and I'll do it right. Lily
can have her sleep. G'wan!"
The woman hesitated a second, pushed away the hat, took her bearings and
crossed the walk, heading directly toward the old apple tree on the far
crest. Her eyes were set on the rising sun, and as she turned to close the
yard gate, Mickey could see that there was an awed, unnatural expression
on her face.


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