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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Bob Hampton of Placer"


The hoofs clattered across the narrow bridge, and, with a sudden swing,
all came to a sharp stand, amid a cloud of dust before a naked yellow
house.
"Here 's where you get out, miss," announced the Jehu, leaning down
from his seat to peer within. "This yere is the Herndon shebang."
The gentlemen inside assisted Miss Spencer to descend in safety to the
weed-bordered walk, where she stood shaking her ruffled plumage into
shape, and giving directions regarding her luggage. Then the two
gentlemen emerged, Moffat bearing a grip-case, a bandbox, and a basket,
while McNeil supported a shawl-strap and a small trunk. Thus decorated
they meekly followed her lead up the narrow path toward the front door.
The latter opened suddenly, and Mrs. Herndon bounced forth with
vociferous welcome.
"Why, Phoebe Spencer, and have you really come! I did n't expect you
'd get along before next week. Oh, this seems too nice to see you
again; almost as good as going home to Vermont. You must be completely
tired out."
"Dear Aunt Lydia; of course I 'm glad to be here. But I 'm not in the
least tired. I 've had such a delightful trip.


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