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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Gentleman from Indiana"

Martin, and determined not to sit within a hundred yards of him;
here rolled in the orbit of habit the bacchanal, Mr. Wilkerson, who
politely answered in kind all the uncouth roarings and guttural
ejaculations of jungle and fen that came from the animal tent; in brief,
here came with lightest hearts the population of Carlow and part of Amo.
Helen had found a true word: it was a big family. Jim Bardlock, broadly
smiling and rejuvenated, shorn of depression, paused in front of the
"reserve" seats, with Mrs. Bardlock on his arm, and called loudly to a
gentleman on a tier about the level of Jim's head: "How are ye? I reckon
we were a _little_ too smart fer 'em, this morning, huh?" Five or six
hundred people--every one within hearing--fumed to look at Jim; but the
gentleman addressed was engaged in conversation with a lady and did not
notice.
"Hi! Hi, there! _Say_! Mr. Harkless!" bellowed Jim, informally. The people
turned to look at Harkless. His attention was arrested and his cheek grew
red.
"_What is it_?" he asked, a little confused and a good deal annoyed.
"I don't hear what ye say," shouted Jim, putting his hand to his ear.
"_What is it_?" repeated the young man. "I'll kill that fellow to-night,"
he added to Lige Willetts. "Some one ought to have done it long ago."
"What?"
"I _say_, WHAT IS IT?"
"I only wanted to say me and you certainly did fool these here Hoosiers
this morning, huh? Hustled them two fellers through the court-house, and
nobody never thought to slip round to the other door and head us off.


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