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Wood, Eugene, 1860-1923

"Back Home"

Yes, sir,
that's up in the West End. You goin'? Come on, then."
"No, Frank, I can't let you go. You've got your lessons to get.
Well, now, mother, make up your mind if you're comin' along. Cora,
what on earth are you doing out here in the night air with nothing
around you? Now, you mosey right back into that parlor, and don't
you make a move off that piano-stool till your hour's up. Do you
hear me? No. Frank. I told you once you couldn't go and that ends
it. Stop your whining! I can't have you running hither and yon all
hours of the night, and we not know where you are. Well, hurry up,
then, mother. Take him in with you. Oh, just throw a shawl over
your head. Nobody 'll see you, or if they do they won't care."
The apparatus trundles by, the bells on the trucks tolling sadly as
the striking gear on the rear axle engages the cam. A hurrying
throng scuffles by in the gloom. The tolling grows fainter, the
throng thinner.
"Good land! Is she going to be all night? Wish 't I hadn't
proposed it. That's the worst of taking a woman anyplace. Fuss
and fiddle by the hour in front of the looking-glass. Em! (Be all
over by the time we get there) Oh, Em! Em! . . . EM! (Holler
my head offl) EM! . . . . "Well, why don't you answer me? Well, I
didn't hear you. How much long - Oh, I know about your 'minute.


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