That Girl of Johnson's — page 105: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

94 THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S. afresh the coarse laughter that filled the long, low room. Even the cat shrank from it into the back room with the women. “Took a-hyar,” Lodie slowly interrupted, changing his right leg over the left. ‘Look a-hyar, men, mebby ’t ain’t sech a good joke as ye seem ter thenk with yer larfin’ an’ yer jokin’. When I helped with Johnsing tell ther doctors © kem, I could see plain thet ’t warn’t no common theng hed hap’d Johnsing. Thar he were wuth his two legs broke an’ his arms, an’ covered with bruises an’ mebby no end o’ broke bones; an’ I says ter mysel’ thet ’t warn’t no. common theng he’d hap’d Johnsing. An’ when ther doc- tors kem theys sed—I asked ther jedge’s son as I were comin’ out, an’ he telled me—theys sed Johnsing ain’t long ter live, an’ thet ’t would be a mericle ef he even live a week. ‘Tain’t no common theng, an’ no jokin’ matter, an’ ye’d best stop yer larfin’. How’d ye like et ef ’t were one 0’ ye? An’ thar were Johnsing’s gal a standin’ et ther winder starin’ out et ther rain, jes’es she’d stood ever sence we bringed her feyther home, an’ she’s never moved or spoke sence. An’ I b’lieve she’s standin’ thar yet with her arms a-hangin’ down an’ her face white asaha’nt. Stop yer larfin, men; ’tain’t no larfin’ matter—thes thet hev hap’d Johnsing.” ‘‘Hev ther gal stole yer hyart fro’ ye, Lodie?” asked one of the men, again starting the rough laughter. “She’sa sweet gal, Jim, an’ ye’re welcome ter her ef ye ken get her frum ther jedge’s son. But ye’ll hev ter be lively, man. *Tain’t ev’ry gal kin get ther son o’ a jedge, an’ ye’d best put yer best foot forrard as soon as may be.” ‘Look a-hyar, man”—there was a wrathful gleam in the big fellow’s black eyes as he arose to his feet in all his height of six feet three—“ et makes no diff’rence what ye say ter me or ’bout me, but ther next one what speaks thet gal’s name like thet’ll be laid outen flatter’n ever J ohnsing were, an’ he’ll never git up agen. How’d ye like one o’ us ter say ther same o’ yer darter, Hiram Sadler ?” Gomicbooks.com