I'm Demander Sharpe, of Californy, and I and my darter, Minty, oncet had
the pleasure of knowing your boy over thar, and of meeting him agin the
other day at Nice."
"I think," said Sir Robert's voice gently, "that these are not the only
claims you have upon me. I have only a day or two ago heard from
Mr. Bradley that I owe to your generous hands and your disinterested
liberality the saving of my California fortune."
There was the momentary sound of a pushed-back chair, a stamping of
feet, and then Mr. Sharpe's voice rose high with the blacksmith's old
querulous aggrieved utterance.
"So it's that finikin', conceited Bradley agin--that's giv' me away!
Ef that man's all-fired belief in his being the Angel Gabriel and Dan'l
Webster rolled inter one don't beat anythin'! I suppose that high-flyin'
jay-bird kalkilated to put you and me and my gal and yer boy inter
harness for his four hoss chariot and he sittin' kam on the box drivin'
us! Why don't he tend to his own business, and look arter his own
concerns--instead o' leaving Jinny Bradley and Loo Macy dependent
on Kings and Queens and titled folks gen'rally, and he, Jim Bradley,
philanderin' with another man's wife--while that thar man is hard at
work tryin' to make a honest livin' fer his wife, buckin' agin faro an'
the tiger gen'rally at Monaco! Eh? And that man a-inter-meddlin' with
me! Ef," continued the voice, dropped to a tone of hopeless moral
conviction, "ef there's a man I mor'aly despise--it's that finikin' Jim
Bradley.
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