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Glasgow, Ellen Anderson Gholson, 1873-1945

"The Battle Ground"

Ambler or of
Betty to bring it forth--and his erect figure had given way in the chest,
as if a strong wind bent him forward when he walked.
"He has grown to be an old man," his neighbours said pityingly; and it is
true that the weight of his years had fallen upon him in a night--as if he
had gone to bed in a hale old age, with the sap of youth in his veins, to
awaken with bleared eyes and a trembling hand. Since the day of his wife's
return from the tavern, when he had peered from his hiding-place in his
library window, he had not mentioned his grandson by name; and yet the
thought of him seemed forever lying beneath his captious exclamations. He
pricked nervously at the subject, made roundabout allusions to the base
ingratitude from which he suffered; and the desertion of Big Abel had
damned for him the whole faithful race from which the offender sprang.
"They are all alike," he sweepingly declared. "There is not a trustworthy
one among them. They'll eat my bread and steal my chickens, and then run
off with the first scapegrace that gives them a chance."
"I think Big Abel did just right," said Betty, fearlessly.
The old gentleman squared himself to fix her with his weak red eyes.
"Oh, you're just the same," he returned pettishly, "just the same."
"But I don't steal your chickens, sir," protested the girl, laughing.
The Major grunted and looked down at her in angry silence; then his face
relaxed and a frosty smile played about his lips.


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