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Rudder Grange Frank R. Stockton

Our Tavern


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I thanked him, and admitted that this was a rather serious view of the case. Euphemia pondered a moment. Then said she:

"I don't see why we should stay here any longer. It's going to rain again, and our vacation is up to-morrow, anyway. Could you wait a little while, while we pack up?" she said to the driver.

"Oh yes!" he replied. "I kin wait, as well as not. I've only got one passenger, an' he's on top, a-holdin' the horses. He aint in any hurry, I know, an' I'm ahead o' time."

In less than twenty minutes we had packed our trunk, locked up the house, and were in the stage, and, as we drove away, we cast a last admiring look at Euphemia's sign, slowly swinging in the wind. I would much like to know if it is swinging there yet. I feel certain there has been no lack of custom.

We stopped at Mrs. Carson's, paid her what we owed her, and engaged her to go up to the tavern and put things in order. She was very sorry we were going, but hoped we would come back again some other summer. We said that it was quite possible that we might do so; but that, next time, we did not think we would try to have a tavern of our own.

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Rudder Grange
Frank R. Stockton

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