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A waiting Game
"Keerful,now,Nancy!"interruptedtheoldman,withaslowgrin. "YouknowwhatyousaidwhenItoldyeshewashandsomeonce."
Nancyshruggedhershoulders.
"Oh,sheain’thandsome,ofcourse; butIwillownupshedon’tlooklikethesamewoman,whatwiththeribbonsan’lacejiggersMissPollyannamakesherwear‘roundherneck."
"Itoldyeso,"noddedtheman."Itoldyeshewa’n’t—old."
Nancylaughed.
"Well,I’llownupsheHAIN’Tgotquitesogoodanimitationofit—asshedidhave,‘foreMissPollyannacome. Say,Mr.Tom,whoWASherAlover? Ihain’tfoundthatout,yet;Ihain’t,Ihain’t!"
"Hain’tye?"askedtheoldman,withanoddlookonhisface."Well,Iguessyewon’tthenfromme."
"Oh,Mr.Tom,comeon,now,"wheedledthegirl. "Yesee,thereain’tmanyfolksherethatICANask."
"Maybenot.Butthere’sone,anyhow,thatain’tanswerin’,"grinnedOldTom. Then,abruptly,thelightdiedfromhiseyes. "Howisshe,ter-day—thelittlegal?"
Nancyshookherhead. Herface,too,hadsobered.
"Justthesame,Mr.Tom. Thereain’tnospecialdiff’rence,asIcansee—oranybody,Iguess. Shejestlaystherean’sleepsan’talkssome,an’triestersmilean’be‘glad’‘causethesunsetsorthemoonrises,orsomeothersuchthing,tillit’senoughtermakeyerheartbreakwithachin’."
"Iknow; it’sthe‘game’—blesshersweetheart!"noddedOldTom,blinkingalittle. "ShetoldYOU,then,too,aboutthat‘ere—game?"