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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Thankful's Inheritance"

"'Tis chilly. It'll be a mercy if we
don't catch our deaths, dressed the way some of us be. How's things with
you?"
Miss Parker shook her head. "Oh, I don't know, Caleb," she answered.
"They ain't all they might be, I'm afraid."
"What's the matter? Ain't you feelin' up to the mark?"
"Oh, yes--yes; I'm feeling well enough in body. I ain't sick, if that's
what you mean. I'm kind of blue and--and lonesome, that's all. I try to
bear up under my burdens, but I get compressed in spirit sometimes, I
can't help it. Ah, hum a day!"
She sighed and Mr. Hammond sighed also.
"You ain't the only one," he said. "I'm bluer'n a whetstone myself, this
mornin'."
"What's the trouble?"
"Trouble? Trouble enough! Somethin' happened this mornin' that riled me
all up. It--" he paused, remembering that the cause of the "rilin'" was
somewhat personal, not to say delicate. "Well--well, never mind what it
was," he added. "'Twas mighty aggravatin', that's all I've got to say."
Hannah sighed again. "Ah, hum!" she observed. "There's aggravations
enough in this life. And they generally come on account of somebody
else, too. There's times when I wish I didn't have any flesh and blood."
"Hey? Good land! No flesh and blood! What do you want--bones?"
"Oh, I don't mean that. I wish I didn't have any--any relations of my
own flesh and blood."
"Humph! I don't know's you'd be any better off. I ain't got nobody and
I ain't what you might call cheerful. I know what's the matter with you,
though.


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