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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A Sappho of Green Springs"

It is possible she may have lost her way
among your wheat. Have you seen anything of her?"
Dawson raised his eyes from his work and glanced slowly around at his
companions, as if taking the heavy sense of the assembly. One or two
shook their heads mechanically, and returned to their suspended labor.
He said, coolly:--
"Nobody here seems to."
She felt that they were lying. She was only a woman against five men.
She was only a petty domestic tyrant; she might have been a larger one.
But she had all the courage of that possibility.
"Major Randolph and my son are away," she went on, drawing herself
erect. "But I know that the major will pay liberally if these men will
search the field, besides making it all right with your--EMPLOYERS--for
the loss of time."
Dawson uttered a single word in a low voice to the man nearest him,
who apparently communicated it to the others, for the four men stopped
unloading, and moved away one after the other--even the driver joining
in the exodus.


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