I thought of the four men that had stood by me most in my time; now
one was a miser and smuggler, and got himself hung; and one was a
thief, and died of a split wishbone, on what he called "a throne;"
and one was a fighter and gambler and poet, and he had a heavy fist,
and he turned remorseful into a Burmese monk; and one was Stevey
Todd. And Madge Pemberton thought at one time I was all right, but
she was wrong there. And I thought how here was Andrew and another
Madge, and here was Billy Corliss, and here was the world galloping
along lively. I couldn't but admire the way it was so made as to keep
going, and me thinking it had come pretty near to a standstill.
By-and-by, Corliss and Madge McCulloch came across the yard from the
back of the house, and climbed on the fence, and Madge hooked her
feet on the lower rail and talked cheerful. They spread out what was
on their minds pretty confident. I never knew a couple so open-minded.
"Billy wants to run away," she says, "but he doesn't know where to
yet, unless it's to be a summer hotel in South America that fell into
a river. He thinks it was an interesting hotel," she says. "Do you
think it would be nice? But how would we get there?"
"It's wrong side up now," I says; and Billy Corliss says, "Why,
there's a chance for housekeeping ingenious! Let's be social! 'Sure
Mike!' says the dowager duchess, wishing to be democratic.
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