| 660 | 661 | 662 | 663 | 664 |
| 1 | 170 | 341 | 511 | 681 |
|
his money. Two hundred and thirty dollars--it was all he had in the
world.
"One hundred and eighty . . . . . . . from two hundred and
thirty," he said to himself. "Fifty left . . . . . . It is enough
to get me home . . . . . . . Shall I do it, or shall I not?
.
. . . . . . I wish I had somebody to decide for me."
The pocket book lay open in his hand, with Louise's small letter in view.
His eye fell upon that, and it decided him.
"
It shall go for taxes," he said, "and never tempt me or mine any more!"
He opened the window and stood there tearing the tax bill to bits and
watching the breeze waft them away, till all were gone.
"
The spell is broken, the life-long curse is ended!" he said. "Let us
go."
The baggage wagon had arrived; five minutes later the two friends were
mounted upon their luggage in it, and rattling off toward the station,
the Colonel endeavoring to sing "Homeward Bound," a song whose words he
knew, but whose tune, as he rendered it, was a trial to auditors.
662
Page
Quick Jump
|