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 “And,” said Jake, “if ’tain’t too much trouble, Miss, could you fix it so’s Dave ’ll know me— we was—doggone sorry.”

Presently she returned with her report. “He’s a little quieter, but oh, he’s terribly sick! Mr. Browning said to tell you he—he’d tell Uncle Dave what you said—as soon as he could.”

“Mr. Browning didn’t suggest nothin’ about the paper?”

Lydia shook her head.

“Did it happen he—Dave—was talkin’ about Angus? He was when he got took…. Angus must ’a’ changed, Jake, eh? In eight year he must ’a’ growed, eh, Jake?”

Jake nodded sullenly. Lydia stiffened to attention. “The very thing,” she said. “Write to Angus Burke and have him come home to run the paper. He ought to come. Don’t he owe everything to Uncle Dave?… From his letters—Uncle Dave’s read them to us—he’s capable of it. That’s what you ought to do.” Lydia was immediately enthusiastic.

Jake shook his head. “Dave wouldn’t like it. Angus hain’t through school, and Dave didn’t want him comin’ back here—not to Rainbow. Had his reasons, Dave did, and ’tain’t fer me’n Bishwhang to interfere.”

“But I’d like to see him jest the same,” muttered Bishwhang. It was a wish he had