Flower, for this here pie."
When the good cook had gone to speak with Mrs. Drane, Mike repaired
to the woodshed, where, picking up an axe, he stood for some moments
regarding a short, knotty log on end in front of him. His blood
flowed angrily.
"Marry that there Bannister girl," he said to himself. "A pretty piece of
business if that family was to come here with their money an' their
come-up-ence. They'd turn everythin' upside down on this place. No use
for ramshackle farmin' they'd have, an' no use for me, nuther, with their
top boots an' stovepipe hats."
Mike had been discharged from the Bannisters' service because of his
unwillingness to pay any attention to his personal appearance.
"If that durned Miss Panney," he continued, "keeps on tellin' that to the
people, things will be a cussed sight worse than me a livin' here without
decent vittles, an' Phoebe a boardin' that minister that ain't paid no
board yit. Blast them all, I say." And with that he lifted up his axe and
brought it down on the end of the upturned log with such force that it
split into two jagged portions.
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