Redruth forsook the
face of mankind and became a hermit, as we have seen.
"My story," concluded the young man with an Agency, "may lack the
literary quality; but what I wanted it to show is that the young lady
remained true. She cared nothing for wealth in comparison with true
affection. I admire and believe in the fair sex too much to think
otherwise."
The narrator ceased, with a sidelong glance at the corner where
reclined the lady passenger.
Bildad Rose was next invited by Judge Menefee to contribute his story
in the contest for the apple of judgment. The stage-driver's essay was
brief.
"I'm not one of them lobo wolves," he said, "who are always blaming on
women the calamities of life. My testimony in regards to the fiction
story you ask for, Judge, will be about as follows: What ailed Redruth
was pure laziness. If he had up and slugged this Percival De Lacey
that tried to give him the outside of the road, and had kept Alice in
the grape-vine swing with the blind-bridle on, all would have been
well.
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