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: I Walked in Arden by Crawford Jack Randall - Americans England Fiction; British United States Fiction
"This lady was thrown from her horse and hurt. I want to get help."
He reflectively turned all this over in his mind, evidently considering the request and its accompanying statement from all conceivable angles. Leonidas tactlessly growled at him and incurred severe reproof from Helen.
"Please let me in," she pleaded. "I want very much to sit down." I was meditating choking consent out of the impassive sour-faced old man. A high-pitched nasal voice called out from the head of the stairs: "Henery, don't you dast to give no tramps anything to eat."
"I'll pay you for your trouble," I said, producing a few bills.
"I reckon I don't have to be paid for no trouble," the old codger snarled. I saw that I had made another error of tact. "What you doing out gallivantin' around this time of night?" he added.
"We are not out from choice," I reminded him. "This lady has had an accident and is seriously hurt. All we ask is to be allowed to stay here until we get help from town."
"Mary!" he turned and shouted, "c'mon down here a minute." All this time he carefully guarded the door so that entrance was not possible. I had the intelligence at last to seat Helen on the porch steps while "Mary" made suitable toilet above stairs. The old woman came down in a red flannel mother Hubbard, from which stray ruffles of her nightgown protruded.
"What's all this foolishness about, Henry?" she inquired sharply.
"Young fellow and his girl--says she's hurt," Henry replied.
"Are they married?"
"Dunno. I don't take much stock in the story myself."
"If you'll allow me to explain--" I ventured, thinking it about time I took a hand in the dialogue.
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