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Osbourne, Lloyd, 1868-1947

"Love, the Fiddler"


"Let's get out of this, Quint," he said. "I can't walk straight
when people look at me like that. Don't you feel kind of givey-
givey at the knees with all those pretty girls loving us in
advance?"
"Oh, that's what I like!" said Quintan. "I never got a glance when
I used to sport a silk hat. Besides, here we are at the old
stand!"
Raymond regarded him with blank surprise as they turned aside and
up the steps of one of the houses.
"Land's sake!" he exclaimed; "you don't mean to say you live in a
place like this? Here?" he added, with an intonation that caused
Howard to burst out laughing.
The young fellow pushed by the footman that admitted them and ran
up the stairs three steps at a time. Raymond followed more slowly,
dazed by the splendour he saw about him, and feeling horribly
embarrassed and deserted. He halted on the stairs as he saw
Quintan throw his arms about a tall, stately, magnificently
dressed woman and kiss her boisterously; and he was in two minds
whether or not to slink down again and disappear, when his
companion called out to him to hurry up.
"Mother, this is Mr. Raymond," he said. "He's the best friend I
have on the Dixie, and you're to be awfully good to him!"
Mrs. Quintan graciously gave him her hand and said something about
his kindness to her boy. Raymond was too stricken to speak and was
thankful for the semi-darkness that hid his face. Mrs. Quintan
continued softly, in the same sweet and overpowering manner, to
purr her gratitude and try to put him at his ease.


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