That Girl of Johnson's — page 151: what you’re looking at

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

j f id 140. , \ HAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S. { hyar from ther tav’n ter hear. We ’lowed he orter be im- provin’, an’ wes waitin’ ter know.” “Who are waiting to know?” she asked, sharply. The - tone was new to her, and the man was disconcerted by it. A vague fear had entered her mind in spite of Mrs. Allen’s assurance that they would not come for her father until he was able to go to prove— “Why, jes’ we uns,” Lodie replied, clumsily. “He were a good un ’mong us, was yer feyther, D’lores, an’ wes jest waitin’ ter know ef he inimprovin’. Et’s no light theng hev hap’d yer feyther, an’ wes special int’rested ter know. ’N Cinthy sent these hyar posies ter ye. She ’lowed mebby ye might like ’em.” He brought one hand slowly around from behind his back, and held toward the girl with half comical, half pathetic awkwardness, a huge bunch of gaudy hollyhocks. She took them from him with a faint flush of pleasure on her face as she said, slowly : “Thank you, Jim Lodie. It was thoughtful of Cinthy. You can tell those who wish to know that my father will get well.” A flash came into Lodie’s eye, a deep red rushed to his sunburned face. “T be powerful glad ter hev ye say thet, D’lores,” he said, gravely. “ An’ ther rest of ’em’ll be glad of et, too.” She watched him shuffle down the path and along the road toward the tavern, and then her eyes fell to the flow- ers in her lap and rested there. They were gaudily colored flowers, but it was not of their color she thought as she sat listlessly enough; holding them there, but of the strange kindness that had prompted the girl to send them to her. Presently two light hands were laid on her shoulders, and a soft, low voice exclaimed : “Dolores, Dolores, lam Dora. Look up and tell me you are as glad to see me as 1 am to have found you. Iamso glad, Dolores.”