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Henry, O., 1862-1910

"Whirligigs"

Don't remind me of anything artificial. If only this air could
be bottled! This much alone is worth coming for. Oh, look I there goes
a deer!"
"Jack-rabbit," said Teddy, without turning his head.
"Could I--might I drive?" suggested Octavia, panting, with rose-tinted
cheeks and the eye of an eager child.
"On one condition. Could I--might I smoke?"
"Forever!" cried Octavia, taking the lines with solemn joy. "How shall
I know which way to drive?"
"Keep her sou' by sou'east, and all sail set. You see that black speck
on the horizon under that lowermost Gulf cloud? That's a group of
live-oaks and a landmark. Steer halfway between that and the little
hill to the left. I'll recite you the whole code of driving rules for
the Texas prairies: keep the reins from under the horses' feet, and
swear at 'em frequent."
"I'm too happy to swear, Ted. Oh, why do people buy yachts or travel
in palace-cars, when a buckboard and a pair of plugs and a spring
morning like this can satisfy all desire?"
"Now, I'll ask you," protested Teddy, who was futilely striking match
after match on the dashboard, "not to call those denizens of the air
plugs. They can kick out a hundred miles between daylight and dark."
At last he succeeded in snatching a light for his cigar from the flame
held in the hollow of his hands.


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