"Well, young man, I reckon that's
just what I WANT to do! Now, wait a moment; let's see what he said,"
she went on, taking up and reperusing the "Personal" paragraph. "Well,
then," she went on, after a moment's silent composition with moving
lips, "you just put these lines in."
The editor took up his pencil.
"To Mr. J. D. Dimmidge.--Hope you're still on R. B.'s tracks. Keep
there!--E. J. D."
The editor wrote down the line, and then, remembering Mr. Dimmidge's
voluntary explanation of HIS "Personal," waited with some confidence for
a like frankness from Mrs. Dimmidge. But he was mistaken.
"You think that he--R. B.--or Mr. Dimmidge--will understand this?" he at
last asked tentatively. "Is it enough?"
"Quite enough," said Mrs. Dimmidge emphatically. She took a roll of
greenbacks from her pocket, selected a hundred-dollar bill and then a
five, and laid them before the editor. "Young man," she said, with a
certain demure gravity, "you've done me a heap o' good. I never spent
money with more satisfaction than this.
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