"Yes mother, I've got a little business down-town that I can't put
off. I won't be gone long. Is there anything that I can do for you?"
"But look how it's snowing; you'll be wet through and catch your death
sure. I wish to goodness you'd have more sense and try to take some
care of yourself."
"Not the first time I've been wet. The walk will do me good." And soon
the determined young lady was pushing her way through the snow and
wind toward the business part of the city.
The boy in the printing office had gone out on an errand and George
and Dick were both at the composing case, setting up a local
politician's speech, which was to be issued in the form of a circular,
when Clara walked in, stamping her feet and shaking the snow from her
umbrella and skirt. Udell started forward.
"Great shade of the immortal Benjamin F!" he shouted. "What in the
name of all that's decent are you doing here?" And he placed a chair
near the stove with one hand as he captured the umbrella with the
other.
"I'm going to get warm just now," Clara replied, with an odd little
laugh, and Dick noticed that the wind, or cold, or something, had made
her face very red. "Come here and sit down," she commanded. "I want
to talk business to you. Don't stand there as though you had never
seen me before."
"Well, it has been ages since I saw you," he declared, seating himself
on the edge of the waste-box.
"Yes, all of twenty-four hours. I passed you yesterday and you looked
me right in the face, and never even said 'Howdy.
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