Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 249: what you’re looking at

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

pose = tone 940 A LIVING SAINT. ‘What time are we booked to reach Wallford?’’ he in- quired. ‘Booked to get tha’ at eight-fifty, likely to get thar’ a heap later, I calculate. Yo’ best take a bottle o’ good rye with yo’ in case o’ accident,’’ persisted Mr. Perry, who had ever an eye to business. “Thanks, but I shall not require it,’’ replied Mr. Forrest, mentally resolving to freeze rather than imbibe any more of the ‘‘sunshine’’ just forced down his still smarting throat. ‘“You don’t happen to come from these parts?’’ pursued Perry, with the loquacity of an out-of-the-world host. “You an’t from Baltimo’, I calculate. ’’ so, | ‘“‘Know Washington? I hada cousin died there.’’ ‘fA little. ’’ ‘*Well,’’ continued the landlord, cheerfully, in no wise daunted by the evident disinclination of his guest to con- fide his history to him, *‘thar’s to be some tall goin’s on at the Convent next week,’’ jerking his pipe over his right shoulder to indicate the direction of the building in ques- tion. ‘*Thar’s a lot o’ women takes the vail. Heaps o’ town folks is comin’ to be present. P’raps, ‘ shrewdly, ‘‘you’re interested in it yourself?’’ But the latter vouchsafed no response, so he continued: ‘“Ther’s Miss Rose Delmar, now, she’s goin’ to shut herself up, which, ’tween ourselves, is a sho’ 'nouch pity, say I, for a greater livin’ saint never trod this green earth. Ther’s not a poor or afflicted creatur’ for miles around who doesn’t sing her praises. I calc’late she can do a sight mo’ good in the worl’ than out of it. Lord, Lord, the acts of charity that girl’s done would filla book. Every one in CORNIELOOO KS, EORn