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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"Ramsey Milholland"

Well, I can afford
five dollars this month better than you can, and--"
"I take it back!" Fred interposed, hastily. "But you just listen to me;
you look out--letting her think you're on her side like that."
"I don't--"
"You _don't?_"
Ramsey looked dogged. "I'm not goin' around always arguin' about
everything when arguin' would just hurt people's feelings about
something they're all excited about, and wouldn't do a bit o' good
in the world--and you know yourself just _talk_ hardly ever settles
anything--so I don't--"
"Aha!" Fred cried. "I thought so! Now you listen to me--"
"I won't. I--"
But at this moment they were interrupted. Someone slyly opened the door,
and a snowball deftly thrown from without caught Ramsey upon the back
of the neck and head, where it flattened and displayed itself as an
ornamental star. Shouting fiercely, both boys sprang up, ran to the
door, were caught there in a barrage of snowballs, ducked through it in
spite of all damage, charged upon a dozen besweatered figures awaiting
them and began a mad battle in the blizzard.


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