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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Mr. Jack Hamlin's Mediation"

It was not far, and the night was moonlit. As she crossed
the garden she saw Starbuck moving in the manzanita bushes beyond; a
mischievous light came into her eyes; she had not EXPECTED to meet him,
but she had seen him go out, and there were always POSSIBILITIES. To her
surprise, however, he merely lifted his hat as she passed, and
turned abruptly in another direction. This was more than the little
heart-breaker of Buena Vista was accustomed to!
"Oh, Mr. Starbuck!" she called, in her laziest voice.
He turned almost impatiently.
"Since you're so civil and pressing, I thought I'd tell you I was just
runnin' over to Aunt Chloe's," she said dryly.
"I should think it was hardly the proper thing for a young lady to do
at this time of night," he said superciliously. "But you know best,--you
know the people here."
Polly's cheeks and eyes flamed. "Yes, I reckon I do," she said crisply;
"it's only a STRANGER here would think of being rude. Good-night, Mr.
Starbuck!"
She tripped away after this Parthian shot, yet feeling, even in her
triumph, that the conceited fool seemed actually relieved at her
departure! And for the first time she now thought that she had seen
something in his face that she did not like! But her lazy independence
reasserted itself soon, and half an hour later, when she had left Aunt
Chloe's cabin, she had regained her self-esteem.


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