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Kemp, Harry, 1883-1960

"Tramping on Life An Autobiographical Narrative"

before God, it is true! You don't think I'm a fool, do
you--a ninny?"
"No, on the contrary, I think you are a good man ... that it is
miraculous ... I--I feel so old beside you ... how old are you,
Johnnie?"
"Twenty-six."
"Why, I'm only two years older ... yet I feel like your mother."
* * * * *
In the groves adjoining the colony, for a mile on either side, wherever
there was a big tree, a circular seat had been built about it. It was on
one of these that we sat down, without a word.
I laid my head against Hildreth's shoulder. Soothingly she began
stroking my hair. With cool fingers she stroked it.
"What fine hair you have. It's as soft and silky as a girl's."
"I took after my mother in that."
"What a mixture you are ... manly and strong ... an athlete, yet
sensitive, so sensitive that sometimes it hurts to look at your face
when you talk ... you've suffered a lot, Johnnie."
"In curious ways, yes."
"Tell me about yourself. I won't even whisper it in the dark, when I'm
alone."
"I know I can trust you, Hildreth."
"What are you doing, boy?"
"I want to sit at your feet."
"You dear boy."
"I feel quite humble ... I don't want you to see my face when I talk."
She drew my head against her knees. Threw one arm as if protectingly
over my shoulder.
"There. Are you comfortable, boy?"
"Yes.


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