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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Darrel of the Blessed Isles"

For a moment Trove could hear only the gurgle of
pouring tea and the faint rattle of china softly handled. When he
felt as if the silence were drowning him, he began again:--
"Life is nothing but a school. I'm a teacher, and I deal in rules.
If you want to kill misery, load your gun with pleasure."
"Do you know of anything for indigestion?" said Miss S'mantha,
charging her sickly voice with a firmness calculated to discourage
any undue familiarity.
"Just the thing--a sure cure!" said he, emphatically.
"Come high?" she inquired.
"No, it's cheap and plenty."
"Where do you send?"
"Oh!" said he; "you will have to go after it."
"What is it called ?"
"Fun," said the teacher, quickly; "and the place to find it is out
of doors. It grows everywhere on my farm. I'd rather have a pair
of skates than all the medicine this side of China."
She set down her teacup and looked up at him. She was beginning to
think him a fairly safe and well-behaved man, although she would
have been more comfortable if he had been shut in a cage.
"If I had a pair o' skates," said she, faintly, with a look of
inquiry at her sister, "I dunno but I'd try 'em."
Miss Letitia began to laugh silently.


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