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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Mr. Jack Hamlin's Mediation"

Dimmidge burst
into a fit of rosy merriment. Again and again she laughed, shaking
the building, startling the sedate, melancholy woods beyond, until the
editor himself laughed in sheer vacant sympathy.
"Lordy!" she said at last, gasping, and wiping the laughter from her wet
eyes. "I never thought of THAT."
"No," explained the editor smilingly; "of course you didn't. Don't you
see, the papers that copied the big advertisement never saw that little
paragraph, or if they did, they never connected the two together."
"Oh, it ain't that," said Mrs. Dimmidge, trying to regain her composure
and holding her sides. "It's that blessed DEAR old dunderhead of a
Dimmidge I'm thinking of. That gets me. I see it all now. Only, sakes
alive! I never thought THAT of him. Oh, it's just too much!" and she
again relapsed behind her handkerchief.
"Then I suppose you don't want to reply to it," said the editor.
Her laughter instantly ceased. "Don't I?" she said, wiping her face into
its previous complacent determination.


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